


Blood Ties

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gay Sex, M/M, Vampire Cas, Witch Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-02-27 03:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: Castiel Novak had made a promise to Mary and John Winchester to watch over their children. He took that vow seriously. Twenty-eight years after the accident that killed them, his promise is being put to the test.As the firstborn of a powerful witch, Dean was a commodity that demons and witches alike wanted. His blood would give whomever possessed it strength beyond imagination.Dean carried the guilt that his magic used as a child caused his parents’ death and had refused to use it, choosing to live life as a human. Now, his world was suddenly filled with danger and he must learn to trust a vampire to keep him and his family safe.





	1. Chapter 1

****

 

 **January 30,** **1991**  

 _He watched the boy from his vantage point. He was young, just turned twelve a week before. Tonight was the full moon and he felt the pull of the earth, and a taste of something evil._  

 _It wasn’t his job to keep an eye on the child, but he’d made it his mission. Mary and John Winchester had two sons, but it was the oldest that garnered his attention. The youngest, Sam, had power, but it paled next to Dean’s. He’d inherited it from his mother_ _, a direct descendent of one of the ancient ones. The seventh daughter of the seventh daughter throughout history until now._  

 _Mary Winchester had borne sons. Some thought her power wouldn’t be passed down, but he knew better. He’d read the prophecy on the scrolls stored in the halls of the council’s fortress, deep in the forests of Siberia._  

 _The boys’ mother_ _was the leader of a coven, one of the largest in the Midwest. John, her husband, reigned at her side and sat on the high council._ _John, in his own right, was a powerful warlock._ _They lived simply, unlike some of the council members, and didn’t feel the need to show off their wealth._  

 _His attention went back to the boy, Dean. He was laughing as he spun around and around. The wind began to wail through the treetops and the rain fell, gently at first and then, in in large drops. His little brother ran around, his giggles high-pitched._  

 _Reaching out his hand, he caught some of the rain. It smelled of ozone and something more... raw power. He was about to leave when an explosion made the ground under him shake. Narrowing his eyes, he turned toward the sound. The Winchester’s home? Surely, they weren’t stupid enough to attempt an_ _assassination_ _._  

 _As quickly as it started, the wind and rain stopped. The boys, pale with fear, ran to their home, hand in hand. He was faster, the power of hundreds of years taking him swiftly to the house... or what was left of it. The white two-story craftsman was engulfed in flames, the paint already blistering and scorched black._  

 _“Mama...” His gaze broke from the destruction to the children. With lightning speed, he caught them, holding them back._  

 _“No, child,” he whispered, letting his gaze settle on the wide green eyes. “Stay.” His own eyes widened when he realized he had no effect on the boy._  

 _“Let me go. My mom’s in there.” The boy fought, but he held firm._  

 _“Keep your brother safe. Please.” He pressed his hand over their joined ones. “Watch out for Sam.”_  

 _He raced to the porch and broke down the door. The heat was intense. John was on the floor. He looked up and recognition filled his eyes. “Watch over them,_ _Castiel_ _.”_  

 _“Mary?” John shook his head weakly and a sob escaped his burned throat._  

 _Lifting the man like he was a child,_ _Castiel_ _took him to safety. He lowered him and cradled his head in his hands. Burns covered most of his body. He could have saved him, turned him, but it was forbidden. As if sensing his thoughts, John shook his head. “No, Mary is gone. Let me go. Take the boys to Bobby. Bobby Singer in Sioux Falls. He will keep them safe.”_  

 _John shuddered and, he too, was gone._ _Castiel_ _touched the charred skin of his face. “I will watch over them. You have my word.”_  

 _“Dad... Dad... Get away from him.”_ _Castiel’s_ _arms were suddenly filled with the angry and terrified boy. He let the child hit him over and over until he was exhausted. Sam, the younger boy, stood by in shock, tears running down his face. At eight, he understood_ _death_ _._  

 _Sirens could be heard in the distance. Tucking a boy under each arm, he ran, his legs a blur. At his car, hidden behind a copse of trees, he slowed. Not used to speaking to children,_ _Castiel_ _decided honesty was the best policy. “Your parents are dead. I promised your father I would take you somewhere safe.”_ _And he owed Mary Winchester a debt he could never repay._  

 **March 2019**  

“This is The Cowboy, signing off with one of my favorites, _Traveling Riverside Blues_. Remember tomorrow is Saint Patrick’s Day, wear your green.” Dean tapped the screen and Led Zepplin began to fill the airwaves. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. It was midnight.  

The station, WQZX, was quiet. At this time of night, it was just him and the security guard, Ed. “Night, Dean,” Ed called out from his post at the bank of monitors. 

“Hasta mañana,” Dean threw over his shoulder as he let himself out the heavy door. The station was located just east of town and Dean looked up at the sky. The stars were bright out here away from the city. As he walked across the deserted lot toward his car, the sleek black Impala he and Bobby had painstakingly put back together from his father’s wilder days, the hair on his neck stood up. He stopped and looked around. _Nothing_. He pulled up the collar of his coat against the fierce South Dakota weather and put the keys in the lock. Strangely enough, there wasn’t any snow on the ground, but the wind was biting. “I should move to fucking Florida,” he muttered as he got behind the wheel. 

The engine roared to life and he backed out of his space. He felt the need for a stiff drink and maybe if he was lucky, he’d get four or five hours of sleep. The nightmares were back. His mom and dad burning in the fire.  

He’d made it to the main road when a woman stepped out in front of his car. He slammed on the brakes. She was dressed in black, a long gown, better suited for a cocktail party than Sioux Falls in March. Was she drunk? Lost? He opened his door and she smiled. A bad feeling rushed over him. Something evil.  

She strutted toward him, her heels making a tap-tapping sound on the asphalt. He instinctively moved behind the open door. “You don’t look powerful,” she said, her voice husky. 

“Who are you?” 

“My name is Ruby.” 

“Okay, nice to meet you, but you need to get out of my way,” Dean said, his hands tight on the edge of the door. 

She laughed and then cut it off abruptly, her lips forming a tight line. “I _need_ you to come with me, _Dean_.” 

“How do you know my name?” Chills ran up his spine. There was something about her. An energy he could feel. 

“Oh, Dean, I know all about you. We’ve waited long enough. You’ve been hard to find. We’d hoped you died in the fire, but suddenly, here you are, all grown up.” _The fire_. He never talked about it, not even to Bobby. She looked to be his age though, how could she have known about it. She would have been a child too. “Time’s wasting.” She lifted her hand and began to chant in whispered tones. Dean felt the pull and shook his head. No, he would not go quietly. 

“The fire... it wasn’t an accident, was it?” 

Her smile was malicious. “Afraid not. Mary was too powerful. She stopped us from using our magic for...” She stopped. “No more interruptions. We just need a little of your blood. Mary’s bloodline.” 

Anger coursed through him. They’d killed his parents. All this time, he’d thought it had been his fault, his magic, that had somehow led to their death. “Fuck you,” Dean said coldly. “Tell me who it was. Who murdered them?” 

“Oh, hon, you don’t have a choice in the matter,” she laughed again and raised her hands toward him. Rage made him see red. He held up his own hands as if to ward off whatever she was trying to do and suddenly, her eyes widened and she began to choke. She started clawing at her throat. “You... you...” She fell to her knees and that gave Dean the time he needed to get into the car. He swerved around her prone figure and spun his tires. She was a witch, that was obvious, but why did she want him? His blood? 

He had to talk to Bobby... and Sam. The man who’d become their adoptive father would know what was going on, wouldn’t he? While he wasn’t a witch, Bobby was an expert on all things supernatural. He’d served with John in the Marines. Bobby was the one who told Dean not to draw attention to himself and he agreed that Dean shouldn’t ever use his magic. Never. But tonight, he did. He’d felt it surging through his veins as the anger rolled over him. 

He pulled into the driveway of Bobby’s house. A light was on in the garage. He found him under the hood of a ‘79 Trans Am. “You’re working late.” It was close to two. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Felt itchy.” The older man straightened and pushed his worn baseball cap back on his head. “Something happened.” It wasn’t a question. Bobby might be human, but he had a sixth sense when it came to Sam and Dean. 

“Tell me about mom and dad’s death.” Dean’s tone gave no room for argument. Bobby rubbed a hand over his face. “We’ll talk about tonight as soon as you tell me about the fire.” 

“Knew this day would come.” He nodded toward the house. “Might need a drink for this, son. And call Sam. He’ll need to hear it too.” 

“Sam doesn’t need...” 

“Don’t argue with me, boy. Call him.” With that, he turned and made his way to the house. Dean had no choice but to follow.  

Sam’s voice was groggy. “Time’s it?” 

“Two.” There was silence on Sam’s end. “Bobby has something to say.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” Dean broke the connection without saying bye. Sam lived near the hospital where he worked as a surgical nurse. Eileen, his wife, worked at the School for the Deaf.  

He stepped into the kitchen. Bobby stood at the sink, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. “Sam coming?” 

“Fifteen minutes.” Dean saw the bottle of whiskey on the table. He poured himself a shot and swallowed it down. The burn took his breath away. Bobby kept rotgut, not the good shit Dean was used to at his own place. They stood in silence until a pair of headlights appeared in the window. Bobby turned. Dean narrowed his eyes. Bobby looked haggard, more so than usual. 

Sam walked in the back door and took in the scene. “So, serious talk then?” 

“Sit,” Bobby said, pointing to the table where they’d grown up eating cereal and pb and j’s. They sat. Bobby paced the room a few times before finally taking a seat. He let out a breath.  

“I’ll need to start at the beginning. You know the basics. You were taught early that certain beings exist and that you both have powers. _But_ , what your parents didn’t have time to teach you was that these beings have been living in harmony for the last hundred years or so. A treaty was formed and one member of each... breed, for lack of a better word, was asked to sit on the High Council. No one knows where they meet or who-alls on this board of elders. Your father was the leader of all witches.” Dean and Sam both straightened in their chairs. How had they not known that? 

“Your mother was chosen, but she denied the chair and let John take her place. Mary wasn’t just any witch, she was _the_ witch. The last time we talked, your father told me that the coven wanted more power. They wanted Mary to use her blood to make them the strongest. She refused. Your ma didn’t do dark magic. It was forbidden by the High Council in the treaty. John was afraid of what they might do and he told me to come get you boys. The fire happened that same day.” 

“Who was the man?” Dean asked. All he remembered of that day was the fire, his father’s burnt body, and the strange man in the trench coat. He remembered his eyes. Bluer than blue. He’d driven them from Kansas to Bobby’s place. He never spoke. He’d made sure they were fed and had bathroom breaks, but otherwise, he’d driven straight through. 

Bobby looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. He didn’t stay long enough for me to ask him.” Then he looked right at Dean. “He was powerful. Not a witch, but I think he was one of the elders.” 

“So, on this council then?” Sam asked. 

Bobby shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t know.” 

Sam looked at Dean and then back at Bobby. “Why are you telling us this now? What happened?” 

“A witch paid me a visit tonight.” Bobby exhaled sharply, but remained silent. “She said her name was Ruby and she wanted me to go with her... something about needing my blood.” 

“Christ on a crutch,” Bobby muttered, reaching for the bottle. Dean waited until he’d poured a shot and downed it. 

“She started a spell, but I... I was angry. Madder than I’d ever been because she told me the fire wasn’t an accident. I wasn’t consciously...” Dean let the sentence die. 

“You used magic?” Bobby exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the table. “Dean, I told you...” 

“I didn’t... I was pissed off... she was...”  

“I’m sorry. I know. She would have taken you.” Bobby sounded so defeated.  

“Why have you always told us to hide our power?” Sam asked. Dean thought he knew all these years. He’d thought he was to blame for his parents’ death and that’s why Bobby made him swear he’d never use it again, but now he knew differently.  

“Dean... Dean is the firstborn son of the most powerful of witches. If used in the right spell, his blood could give a coven power over everything. They would be unstoppable. If you or Dean used magic, someone would find out. They’d know where to find you. I don’t know how they found you after all these years.” Bobby forged papers to change their last name to Singer and that’s what they were known by in school and as they got older.  

“Did you leave her alive?” Sam asked weakly. 

“Yeah,” Dean murmured. 

“Well, fuck,” Bobby said, pouring himself another shot. 


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel stood in the mezzanine, taking in the beautiful tile work. It was almost time. He hated going into the chamber early only to sit in the uncomfortable chairs until everyone took their seats. 

“Castiel, it’s been a long time.” He didn’t bother to look up. 

“Not long enough, Alistair.” The creature laughed and the sound made Castiel’s skin crawl. Demons might be allowed on the Council, but they weren’t to be trusted. He didn’t know for certain, but he believed Alistair was behind what happened to Mary and John Winchester. 

“It’s time,” a voice rang out, echoing in the large, circular room. Castiel strode toward the open doorway. He could smell Alistair’s tainted blood behind him. 

The yearly meeting began. Linda Tran stood at her rightful place as elected leader of the Council. Her eight legs hidden under a long kimono. The Joro-Gumo thanked everyone for coming like they had a choice in the matter. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” The room quieted. 

All in all, the chamber held two hundred seats, set up like Parliament’s own House of Commons. Elders from all nations sat waiting for any news that would affect them or their brethren. Tran looked down at her notes. “A werewolf in Romania has mated with a Gamayun. The offspring and parents were put to death. We, as the reigning Council, must keep the lines pure, so says the law. Crossbreeding will not be tolerated.” She looked up and met the eyes of the Alpha werewolf. “Report.” 

He stood. “Andrei Cardei wed and mated a Gamayun last year, but kept it hidden from his pack. Their ‘child’,” he said the word with distaste. “...was born last month. The pack leader reported it to me and I gave the order for their execution. Proof of death was delivered through proper channels.” 

The Gamayun’s representative, seated to Castiel’s left, nodded her head regally, her black feathers gleaming under the crystal chandeliers hanging above. 

Tran let her gaze sweep the room. “Any questions?” Missouri Mosely, the witch who took John Winchester’s seat when he was killed, got to her feet. “Yes, Madam Mosely?” 

“At the last meeting, it was discussed that the arcane law of interspecies mating was antiquated and should be removed.” There were a lot of angry murmurs from the members, but Missouri paid no heed. Castiel liked the strong witch. He considered her one of the few friends he had on the Council. 

“Quiet,” Tran shouted. When everyone settled down again, she faced Missouri. “There was discussion and the call for a vote was decided. It is on the agenda for today’s meeting. If the vote is to abolish the law, it is unfortunate for the families of those already put to death for their transgressions, but it is our way.” 

She went down her list and Castiel’s mind drifted. He was thinking of his home in Washington when the name Winchester was brought up. His senses sharpened. 

“The children have been located...” Missouri looked as surprised as Castiel. This news was coming from Alistair. He looked pleased with himself.  

“It was rumored that Mary Winchester’s offspring died in the fire,” Tran said, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t known to like surprises. 

“One should never believe everything they hear,” Alistair said snidely.  

“What have you heard,” Missouri demanded. 

“Just that Mary’s sons are alive and well.” Castiel knew the demon was hiding something.  

“How did you come by this information?” Missouri asked, not letting this go for an instant. 

“I cannot divulge my sources, but let it be known that they are to be believed.” 

Missouri addressed Tran. “Madam Tran, if this is true, they must be protected at all costs. I would like to offer them the sanctuary of my coven.” 

“I agree. The elder child carries Mary’s bloodline. As an adult, he must be powerful indeed.” Tran favored Castiel with a glance. She was the one who had sent him to warn the Winchesters of the evil surrounding them all those years ago. They thought Alistair was behind it then, and with his declaration today, Castiel was more than sure the demon caused the fire. Castiel blinked slowly, signaling to her that he would offer his protection again. 

That night, long after the chamber was cleared, Castiel sat with Missouri, Tran, and a few other trusted members. “If Alistair gets Mary’s blood, it would be the downfall of all of us,” Missouri said softly. She was worried and it showed in the lines of her face. She was also upset that the vote to abolish the old law concerning interspecies mating failed to pass. 

“Who is he working with?” Castiel asked. “He would need a strong witch to locate the boy. I made sure the trail was erased. I checked with Singer just last year and he assured me they were living as humans and not using magic.” 

“He is friends with Ruby Cortese, the leader of a coven in the States. She’s been warned about using dark magic, but I do not trust her,” Missouri offered. She turned to Castiel. “You must go to them, Castiel. Take them somewhere safe.” 

He nodded. He didn’t need to be asked. He’d felt a bond with the boy all those years ago. The righteous anger he’d showed trying to protect his dying father showed his inner strength. 

An hour later, his private jet was taking off from the private airport hidden within the snow-covered forests. He didn’t feel the chill from the Siberian winter, but his passenger was bundled against it in a heavy down coat. “I’m worried about those boys,” she said, as if to herself. 

“I will take them to my estate. It is heavily warded and even a demon as strong as Alistair won’t be able to enter the grounds.” He didn’t mention his guards, trained by Castiel himself. Missouri looked at him and nodded. She took his hand in hers. 

“He will grow to trust you, Castiel, but for now, tread lightly. His magic will be strong.” 

“Singer assured me he was not using it.” 

“Maybe not, but it is there, dormant. Unleashed in the wrong hands, could be the end of our peaceful truce.” Castiel understood. The treaty binding all supernatural creatures under one entity had been shaky at first, but it had grown strong. There were those on the Council that would love to see it topple. The old ways were bloody and violent. He couldn’t let history repeat itself.  

They landed at JFK and Missouri hugged him before stepping onto the gangway. He remained seated. He would sleep once they were airborne again. He’d made his calls during the overseas flight. All the arrangements had been made. The next few days would be busy. “Here is your meal, sir.” A trusted employee set the warmed bags of blood on the table beside him. He smiled and nodded his thanks. 

The iron rich blood warmed him and he fell into a much-needed sleep. He awoke when the seasoned pilot touched down gently at the Sioux Falls airport. A dark SUV with tinted windows was waiting. The driver opened the door and he slid inside. “Meg, thank you for making the arrangements.” 

“Not a problem, boss. How was Mother Russia?” He’d been born in a small village outside of, what is now known as, Moscow over a thousand years ago. Castiel had long since left his motherland, coming to America right after the Civil War. Before that, he’d lived in England for well over four centuries.  

“Cold,” he said dryly. She laughed and gave the driver an address. “Plans?” 

“The youngest Winchester and his wife live in a small suburb. At the present time, both should be home in bed.” Castiel looked at his phone. It was almost four in the morning. “Dean, the oldest, lives in an apartment near the radio station. He gets off the air at midnight, so I’m assuming he would be home as well. My plan would be to get him first, then pick up the couple. Your pilot has orders to refuel and file a flight plan for Seattle, leaving at six.” 

“That only gives us two hours,” Castiel pointed out. 

“I don’t foresee any problems. We knock on the door, you do your whammy thing on them, and we leave. Easy peasy.” 

“My ‘whammy thing’ doesn’t work on Dean.” It was the thing that had perplexed him for the last twenty-eight years. 

Her eyes widened. “What?” 

Castiel turned from the window and shrugged. “I tried when he was a boy. It didn’t work. It seems he is immune to my charms.” 

“Shit,” she muttered. “Well, you can overpower him, right?” 

“I don’t know. He’s strong enough that some members of the Council are afraid of him. Do you have a Plan B?” 

“I got nothing,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Perhaps we should go to see Mr. Singer first.” 

“You’re the boss.” She pressed a button and relayed a new address to the driver.  

Bobby Singer’s home looked the same as it did all those years ago when he delivered two scared little boys to the gruff man, still sorely in need of paint and surrounded by hulks of rusting cars. “Stay here,” Castiel ordered as he stepped out. The wind whipped his trench coat, but he didn’t notice. As he neared the porch, a huge dog approached, his bark deep and loud. Castiel blinked at it and it quieted instantly, backing away with a whimper. 

“You’d best state your business before I shoot your ass,” came Bobby’s voice from behind the, now open, door. 

“Hello, Bobby.” 

“Novak. How did you hear?”  

Hear what? Castiel tensed. “What has happened?” 

Bobby lowered the shotgun and motioned for him to enter his home. At the invitation, Castiel stepped inside. “Tell me,” he said without preamble. 

“Dean was approached a couple nights ago by a witch. Said she wanted his blood.” 

“Fuck,” Castiel muttered under his breath. Missouri had been right. The witch was working with Alistair. That’s how he knew Dean was alive. 

“You didn’t know about it?” Bobby asked, eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here? Now?” 

“The Council is aware Dean and Sam survived the fire. The demon’s leader said they knew of Dean’s location.” 

“Well, ain’t that a fine mess,” Bobby snarled. “What are we going to do about it?” 

“We? There is no we. I’ve been charged to protect them. Call them both, tell them to pack for an extended trip and tell absolutely no one they are going anywhere. They will come for after you, so you should collect your things as well.” 

“No one is chasing me from my home,” Bobby said. “You take those boys and Sam’s wife somewhere safe. I’ll be alright.” He took the phone receiver off the wall and dialed. Castiel raised a brow, he hadn’t seen a phone like that since the eighties. “Dean, pack a bag, don’t say shit to anyone, and come here. No time for explanations. Just hurry, boy... Yeah, I’m calling Sam.” 

“One down, one to go,” he said as he dialed again. “Sam, listen, kid... I need you and Eileen to pack up some stuff and come over to the house. Don’t say a word to anyone... I’ll explain when you get here. Hurry.” 

Calls made, Bobby sighed heavily and turned toward Castiel. “Where are you taking them... no, don’t answer that.” Castiel knew Bobby was having the same thoughts as he. If the demons or witches got to Bobby, they could torture him into giving information. It was better if he didn’t know anything. 

“I will protect them with my life,” Castiel vowed. He owed Mary Winchester that. _He owed her his life_. 

He paced the cluttered living room while Bobby etched wardings and sigils around his home. As dawn broke in the east, he heard the roar of a loud engine outside. Bobby huffed, “They’re here.” 

The sound of heavy boots on the porch drew Castiel’s attention. He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. It was Dean. The scent of his blood was heady and Castiel swayed slightly. He shook his head to clear it. 

The door banged open. “What the fuck, Bobby?” Then he saw Castiel. “You.” He blinked a few times as if clearing an image. “What the hell’s going on?” 

“Keep your shirt on, boy. Castiel will explain everything once Sam and Eileen get here.” 

“We’re here,” Sam said, coming through the open door, leading a pretty brunette by her hand. _Eileen_ , Castiel assumed. 

Castiel raised his chin and stared at the two grown men. The years had made them into beautiful men, tall and strong. Mary and John would have been proud. 

“So, talk,” Dean growled belligerently.  

It took him over an hour to tell them the story and answer their questions. In the end, neither wanted to leave Bobby or their lives behind. 

“You do not understand. If the demons or a rogue coven of witches take Sam or Eileen, they will use them to draw you out. They will take your blood. Oh, you will be kept alive, somewhere safe, in a hell you can’t even imagine. They will drain you day by day, gaining your power and when you are of no use anymore, you will be left to rot. And your brother and his lovely wife... they will die long before you. Swiftly, if they are _lucky_ ,” Castiel spat out the words, hoping the truth would scare them enough to see reason. 

Sam began to sign rapidly to his wife and she signed back angrily. Castiel knew she was telling Sam to listen and keep them safe. “Listen to her, Sam,” Castiel implored. 

“Dean, you have to trust him,” Bobby added. 

Dean whirled around, glaring at his godfather. ”Why? Why should I trust him? Who the fuck is he?”  

Castiel knew time was short. If they found Dean once, it would only be a matter of time before Alistair would rally his minions and track him down. He moved to Dean, his motion a blur and he heard Eileen’s gasp. He stopped mere inches from Dean, close enough that he could hear the blood pumping through his veins. He let his fangs extend. “I am Castiel. I made a promise to your father, as he died in my arms, to keep you safe. I am your only salvation. You will come with me willingly or slung over my shoulder. It is your choice,” He hissed.  

Dean’s eyes flashed with anger and Castiel felt the air around them crackle with energy. “Don’t,” he whispered. Confusion flashed in Dean’s eyes. He really had no idea how strong he was. He had no idea how to control his power. That would need to be remedied... fast. 

“Dean, we should listen to him... and Bobby,” Sam said pleadingly. 

“Fine,” Dean snapped. “But we aren’t leaving Bobby.” He shoved Castiel and he willingly stepped back. 

“I’m not going, Dean. Let Castiel take you somewhere safe.” Bobby came forward and held out a leatherbound journal. “Take this. It was your daddy’s. He sent it to me before he... before he died.” Dean took it as if it were a precious artifact and opened it. He traced his father’s written words and closed it with a snap. 

“Bobby, we can’t leave you here.”  

Castiel turned away, unwilling to watch their goodbyes. “I will be waiting outside.” He stepped out onto the porch and tried not to listen. He had no doubts that Alistair would come after Bobby, but he knew the stubborn fool would not leave his home. 

Three subdued people come out to stand with him a few minutes later. “Where are we going?” Sam asked. 

“It is best for you not to know until we are in the air,” Castiel said, leading them down the steps. 

“The air? Oh, hell, no. Just tell me where we are going and I’ll drive,” Dean said vehemently. 

Castiel turned, stopping abruptly. “Are you always this stubborn?” 

“He is,” Sam replied. 

“You shut up,” Dean told his brother. “And you...” He pointed to Castiel. “...are not the boss of me.” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “I think you had more sense when you were twelve.” He continued his trip to the SUV without bothering to see if they followed.  

He’d reached the door when Dean grabbed his arm. “I can’t leave her,” he said, pointing to the beautiful classic car parked next to an economical, tan colored sedan. There was something in his voice. Castiel nodded curtly and opened the door. 

“Meg, arrange for the black car to be shipped home.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stared in disbelief at the jet on the t ar mac. How rich was this guy? The whole ride to the airstrip was filled with him and his assistant discussing flight plans, something called Novak Industries, and ‘beefing up security at the estate’. The shock of the early morning call from Bobby and the convoluted story of demons wanting his blood, topped by the appearance of the man from his childhood nightmares, was wearing off. He wanted answers. He wasn’t getting on that tin deathtrap until he had them.

The driver, a hefty dude, reached inside the SUV and scooped up the woman, taking her quickly to the awaiting jet and inside. Couldn’t she walk?  _ Curious _ .

“Tell me who you are,” he demanded, coming to a stop at the short stairway leading into the jet.

“My name is  Castiel  Novak.”

Damn, he was being deliberately obtuse. “Yeah, I got that. Who are you really, or should I say what are you? A vampire?”  The show of dental work back at Bobby’s was a dead giveaway, but he needed to hear the words.

He looked off into the distance and put his hands into the pockets of his black dress slacks. “I am one of the undead. We have many names.  Shtriga ,  Strigoi ,  Upir , but you are more familiar with the term vampire.”  At least, T all,  D ark, and  D eadly had n’t denied it .

“So, a bloodsucker.”

“Dean...” Sam put a hand on his arm. Dean shook it off.

“No, Sam, we are supposed to put ou r  lives in this dude’s hands... it’s only right we know who and what he is.” To Novak, he continued. “Why does a  _ vampire _  want to help us?”

“I told you that I owed your mother a debt.” The man was cool, that was for sure.

Dean pointed to the east where the sun was rising rapidly. “How can you be in the sun?”

When he rolled his eyes, Dean almost laughed.  _ Almost _ . “Do not believe what you see in movies. And for the record, we do not sparkle under any circumstances.” Dean did laugh then. He couldn’t help himself. Novak looked at him quizzically. “Our flight plan is filed, we must go. If you have any further questions, I would suggest you ask them once we have boarded.”

Dean grunted, but couldn’t argue, since Sam and Eileen had already started following Novak’s assistant... girlfriend... mate... inside the jet. Was she a vampire too? 

The cabin looked expensive. Leather seats, lush carpet, and polished wood accents filled the large space. Dean watched as the driver of the SUV brought in their luggage, such as it was. Dean’s consisted of a small carry-on. Sam and Eileen had a large suitcase each. If he needed anything, he figured Mr. Moneybags could foot the bill.

As they settled into the comfortable seats and prepared for takeoff, Eileen found her voice. She spoke in her throaty way, signing as she talked. “What about our jobs? What do we tell them?”

Dean hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “Yeah, I’ve got some vacation time built up, but usually they like a little warning, you know?”

“Meg will call your employers and explain that a family emergency has come up. Later, after the threat has been eliminated, you may return home.”

“Eliminated?” Sam asked, his voice higher than normal. 

“Those that wish to harm your brother are breaking the Council’s covenant. They will be dealt with accordingly.” He spoke so matter-of-fact that Dean had no doubt the man wouldn’t bat an eye a t  ‘eliminating’ anyone that crossed him.

The jet’s engines began to wind up and it started to move. Dean’s hands gripped the armrests. Novak looked at him sharply. “Are you alright?”

“Dean is afraid of flying,” Sam volunteered, earning him a glare from Dean.

“I’m not afraid,” he barked back. 

“I would make it easier on you, but you are immune to my power of suggestion,” Novak said softly. 

“What are you talking about?” Curiosity got the better of him and he put the thought of burning in a fiery explosion in the hunk of metal out of his mind.

“When you were twelve... you were... distraught. I tried to calm  you,  but you didn’t respond as most do.”

“So, I can’t be  glamoured  by you?”

“Ah, again with the movie references,” he stated with a disgusted look. “Your mother had the same trait.”

“Wait, so you tried to brainwash our mother?” Anger surged through him. 

“It was a game between us. I would try and she would...” Novak seemed to drift off somewhere.

“She would what?” Sam asked, leaning forward. 

A soft smile touched Novak’s lips and Dean couldn’t help but wonder how often that happened.

“She would laugh and...” He stopped and closed his eyes. Dean stared. Did this ‘undead’ man have a thing for his mom? It wasn’t like he aged. It was possible that he... no, the thought was ludicrous. Mary Winchester loved their father. She would have shot that down in a heartbeat.  _ If she knew _ ... came the unbidden voice in his head. “...and throw an irritating spell on me.”

Eileen giggled.  ”Like  what?”

“She made all my hair fall out once.” There it was again, that soft smile. Eileen and Sam both laughed. “It was back the next day. Mary was never cruel.”

It was then that Dean realized they were in the air. He’d been so occupied with Novak’s story about his mother that he hadn’t felt the jet leave the ground.

Novak stood up. “You should try to rest. There is a bedroom through that door, if you would like to lie down, otherwise feel free to watch a movie or read. Meg will see to your needs. ”  He walked to the closed door that led to the cockpit and disappeared.

Dean stared after him, but he was aware of the conversation Sam and his sister-in-law were having with their hands. “Dean, we are going to try to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, right, more likely you want to join the mile-high club,” Dean snickered. Sam shook his head and mumbled something about immaturity. 

Dean found himself alone with Meg. “You a vampire too?”

She gave him an appraising look. Dean noted  how thin her legs were in her jeans and she was wearing sneakers . “Does it matter?”

“Not to me. I was just curious,” Dean said, keeping his tone light.

“If I w ere  like Castiel, I wouldn’t have MS.” That explained her having to be carried to the plane.  Dean found himself almost admiring her.  _ Almost _ .

“Can’t he fix you?’ Her laughter  was musical , sounding loud in the, now empty, cabin. 

“If I asked, he would make me immortal and take away this...” she slapped her thighs. “Because he loves me, but I wouldn’t ask. He does whatever he can to make my life easier. I have the best  doctors  money can buy, medications not available in the US, anything I need.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to live without all that?” Dean was curious. If he had a crippling disease,  surely  he’d do anything to make it go away.

“Being immortal isn’t an easy life.  Castiel  has seen people he loved age and die.” She looked wistful. “I don’t want that.”

“But if you’re both ‘immortal’, you could live  _ happily ever after _ ,” Dean pointed out.

She laughed again. “Trust me, his happily ever after would n’t include me .” Her tone carried a note of wistfulness. She loved the vampire. Dean was certain of it. 

The cockpit door opened, stopping Dean from all the questions he wanted to ask about Novak. The man himself appeared and strode toward them, confident and aloof. Did he ever let loose? He tried to imagine what his mother saw in him to become friends. Yeah, if what he said were true, and Dean didn’t doubt him, Mary and John Winchester had trusted the vampire.  In the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind, Dean remembered  Castiel  running into their burning house and helping their father out. He owed Novak something, even though he hated the thought of it.

“We will be landing in Seattle in four hours. Meg, you should rest.” He gave Dean a speculative look. “I shall keep Mr. Winchester entertained.” He opened a built-in cabinet and pulled out some bedding and set it on a comfortable looking couch along the bulkhead. Then he scooped her up like she weighed nothing and settled her, making sure she was properly covered. He kissed her forehead and mumbled something to her that Dean couldn’t hear.

Novak came back and took Meg’s vacated seat. He eyed  Dean,  his head tilted at an angle as if trying to figure him out. “What do you want to know?” Novak’s eyebrows rose at the question.

“I thought you would be the one with questions.”

“Don’t worry, I have a  fuckton  of them, but I’m tired, my life has been turned upside down, and I just found out I’m indebted to a vampire. Call me crazy, but thinking isn’t high on my list of priorities right now.” Dean glanced over where Meg lie, her eyes closed. “Got one though... why don’t you fix her?”

“Meg?” He sat back, crossed his legs and clasped his hands in his lap. “Your knowledge of my  _ kind  _ is sorely lacking. I cannot ‘fix’ people. If I could wave a magic wand and make her disease go away, I would this second, but it isn’t possible.”

“But you could bite her and make her immortal. Wouldn’t that...” Dean shrugged. “ _ f _ _ ix _ __ her?”

Novak looked away from Dean, his  gaze  coming to rest on the woman. “Immortality isn’t something I would wish on anyone. I’ve known Meg since she was an orphaned child. I sent her to the best of schools. She lacked for nothing. Nothing but her health. I discussed making her like me at one time, but we both decided against it.” Dean figured the subject was closed. They were both silent for a time, Dean’s fingers occupied by the seat belt buckle he’d never removed.

“I know it is hard for you to put your trust in me, but I would never betray your parents.”

“The debt you owe... right... can you elaborate on that?” Guess his brain was formulating questions after all.

Intense blue eyes met his and Dean was afraid he’d overstepped, but then the vampire began to speak.

_ It was  _ _ 1978 _ _. _

_ He awoke to the smell of burning wood. He  _ _ was _ __ _ in  _ _ bed,  _ _ but  _ _ not his. Where was he? Then he remembered. He had been weakened. He hadn’t fed in days... or was  _ _ it _ _  weeks? He had buried Balthazar, his oldest friend... his lover until the aging of his human body made him push  _ _ Castiel _ _  away. Now, he grieved. He’d lost so many in his long life.  _

_ Where was he? Nothing looked familiar. It was dark, but his eyes were like those of all creatures of the night. He sniffed the air. Smoke. It was coming under the door. He tried to sit up and hissed at the searing pain on his wrists. Silver.  _

_ Castiel _ _  snarled and pushed the pain away to tug at the restraints that held him. The door burst open and he saw him. The man from the funeral. Who was he? “Who are you?”  _ _ Castiel _ _  snapped.  _

_ “My name is Gordon Walker and your kind killed my sister.” His dark skin carried a sheen of sweat and Castiel saw smoke swirling in the hallway behind him. “You’re going to burn here and then in hell,” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.  _

_ “I didn’t harm your sister,”  _ _ Castiel _ _  said calmly. If he was to die, he would confess his sins to God, but he wouldn’t be blamed for something he didn’t do. _

_ “You’re a monster and I will never stop hunting you bloodsucking bastards.” The man turned and without a backward glance, left  _ _ Castiel _ _. A _ _  cowardice exit. He didn’t have the stomach to decapitate him, a sure way of ending his immortality. A _ _  minute passed and the sound of flames, alive and hungry, filled his ears.  _

_ “Yea, thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me...” _

_ “ _ _ Castiel _ _ ,” a voice called out in the darkness. A woman appeared, blonde hair a riot of waves around her shoulders. Mary Winchester. He knew her and her husband, John.  _

_ She raised her arms and began to chant. “Harken my words. Hear my cry. I call upon the power of water. Wash away the flames caused by the hands of hatred.”  _ _ Castiel _ _  felt raindrops falling on his skin, though he was inside a house. He heard the snap and hiss as the rain fell harder to extinguish the fire. The witch stood erect and proud, hair hanging limp and wet now _ _ , her clothing clinging to her skin _ _.  _

_ “How did you know I was here?”  _ _ Castiel _ _  asked softly, still in awe of the powerful woman. “Why did you save me?” _

_ “You met with my husband tonight. Council business. I was waiting for him to finish, so we could have dinner.” She smiled. “It’s our date night.” She moved forward and set both hands on the silver cuffs around his wrists. She closed her eyes and whispered another spell. They fell away, leaving charred skin behind. “You need to feed.” _

_ “Soon.” He sat up and motioned for her to continue. _

_ “I saw a man. I felt his hatred from across the room. It was powerful. When you and John parted, he followed you. I didn’t let it concern me, but all through dinner, I sensed something was wrong.” _

_ “Mary... Mary...” John strode through the door and took in the scene. “You found him.  _ _ Castiel _ _ , are you alright?” _

_ “Nothing that won’t heal in time,”  _ _ Castiel _ _  told him. _ _  That fateful night, he vowed to repay his debt to Mary Winchester. He became her biggest champion and her staunchest friend, and by proxy, John’s as well. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My daughter is coming for a visit and so this might be the last chapter until next week. Stay tuned.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel relived that night as he told Dean the story. He hadn’t been afraid to die, far from it. After living a millennium on the earth, he had been ready.  “After that, John and Mary became trusted friends,”  Castiel said. “They came to my home the following year to celebrate the pregnancy. Your mother was so happy. They knew they were having a boy.”

“Me,” Dean said softly.

“You.”

“How did he overpower you?” Of all the questions,  Castiel didn’t expect Dean to be curious about that minor detail.

“Ah, a mixture of wolfsbane, roses, and garlic. Separately, they don’t cause problems, mixed together, they are like chloroform to us.”

“How did he know that? Sounds like something a witch would know.” Dean was sharp,  Castiel would give him that.

“He’d befriended a witch.”

“Oh. ” Dean paused, but  Castiel knew he wasn’t finished. After a moment, he spoke again. “The asshole that tried to kill you, w hat did you do to him?”

“How do you know I did anything?”  Castiel asked, a challenge in his voice. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, dude. He tried to kill you.”

“He and the witch who helped him were punished for their crimes.”

His laugh was enchanting and  Castiel was struck by the man’s beauty. “Punished, huh?”

“Your mother was not impressed by a witch that would aid such a person. I believe she spent the rest of her days as a crow. The human... he died in prison.” Neither him, nor Mary , wanted to be responsible for a  human’s  death, despite the crime.

“But... Prison? For trying to kill you?”

“No, several illegal substances were found in his car and home... an anonymous tip. I could not come forward... Walker’s ravings about vampires caused the jury to think he was crazy.” It was part of the Council’s job to insure humans thought his kind, and all other creatures, were topics of fairy tales and Hollywood movies, nothing more.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Oh, that was Mary’s idea.”  Castiel watched his throat as he threw back his head in laughter. He could hear his pulse... see the minute throb of his  carotid artery. When he collected himself, Dean sobered quickly, as if hating to be caught enjoying himself. “I’m sorry she was taken from you and your brother, Dean.”

“Yeah, well it is what it is,” Dean said with a shrug. “ _ So _ , Seattle, huh? That where you live?”

“Yes. My home is there, though I travel frequently.” At Dean’s questioning look,  Castiel elaborated. “As the chosen delegate for the Council, I am called upon by my brethren to settle minor territorial squabbles and deal with those who break our law.”

“My dad, that was his job too?”

“John... John was on the Council by proxy because your mother would not accept the position. He served in her stead. Covens tend to deal with their own issues, but yes, occasionally John would have to step in.” Castiel never asked Mary, but he knew she stayed out of Council business because she didn’t want anyone to know just how strong she was. With a mere thought, she could turn the weather... a blink, and day became night. Mary could have ruled the world had she chosen, but her heart was good and she wanted nothing more than the love of her husband and children.

Dean was silent for a time and  Castiel understood he had a lot to process. He glanced at his watch and calculated their arrival in Seattle. He trusted Meg would have his vehicles and guards in place at the private airstrip. 

“Rolex... private jet...” Dean mused almost to himself. 

“I’ve lived twelve or thirteen of your lifetimes, Dean. I live comfortably.”

“Sorry, I’m not usually so rude, but I haven’t had any sleep.” He did look  apologetic . 

“If you are to trust  me, you need to know more about me,”  Castiel stated simply. 

Dean stared at  him, his green eyes locked unabashedly with Castiel’s. “You can go out during the day.” It wasn’t a question since they’d discussed it earlier.

“The sun can cause some damage , but it is more draining than anything. That’s one of the reasons I chose Seattle over Miami.” Dean pursed his lips, nodding. Castiel continued. “I cannot turn into a bat. I do, however, need to be invited into someone’s home. Mirrors... once upon a time, I could not see my image because mirrors were backed with silver. Now, they are made differently and I can see my reflection. Anything else?”

“Guess that covers it. No  spark ling. Check. No turning into a bat. Check. Guess that’s enough of Vampire 101.”

“Tell me about your powers.” Dean looked uncomfortable, so  Castiel amended his request. “The witch, tell me everything she said and did.”

Dean huffed in annoyance at repeating the story yet again , but he told  Castiel about the encounter. “And when you got angry, your powers reacted without your bidding?” 

“I guess. She pissed me off and she was chanting and my first instinct was to block it. I threw up my hands and felt... heat... like electricity.”

“Hmmm,”  Castiel murmured, his mind going back to the afternoon in the forest with Dean and his brother. How he was laughing and spinning. His magic was linked to his emotions. It was dangerous. Mary would have taught him to harness it and instructed him on keeping a clear head. But she didn’t have the time.  Castiel reached into his pocket and found the tarnished chain and pendant that he was never without. Mary had gifted him the protective necklace long ago. He held it in his palm, silently paying homage to her.

“Don’t ‘hmmm’ me. I’m not some lab rat. I don’t need magic. I haven’t ever needed it,” he said, his tone cold and angry. 

“I’m afraid you will have to learn to control your power, because those hunting you will not stop,”  Castiel said with finality. 

“This is bullshit. I don’t want to get involved in this war between witches, and demons, and vampires... so what if I give them some blood. Then maybe they’ll leave us alone.” He pounded his fist on the armrest in frustration.

“Dean, your parents were assassinated not because of your mother’s power, but her goodness. Members of her own coven wanted to grow  stronger. T hey wanted her to lead them. T he world would have turned violent. Humans would die needlessly.  Now, t hey want to use you to fulfill their desire to...”

“Like you care about humans?” Dean shouted. “You’re a fucking vampire. You kill to eat, don’t you? So, do not come off like you care about us.”

“Us?” Meg snapped from the couch. “You are not part of the human equation Winchester. You’re a witch, like it or not. And  Castiel doesn’t kill, not humans, not ever.”

“Meg, you should be resting. I apologize if our conversation woke you,”  Castiel said placatingly. He hated her fighting his battles. When she got upset, as she was now, her MS flared. “Do you need your medication?”

“I’m fine. I just hate that some sniveling brat thinks he knows...”

“Meg...”

“Brat... listen, lady, I’m fucking forty years old... you need to...” 

Castiel stood and growled, “Shut up, both of you.” Two sets of eyes flew toward him. “Until we locate and neutralize those wishing to cause Dean harm, we must stay civil toward one another. I will not tolerate...” He snapped his mouth closed. He would not lose his temper, not with so much on the line. “Meg, sleep. Dean, rest.” He turned quickly and went back to the cockpit, slamming the door behind him.

“ Someone’s testy,” Mick, his pilot, said with a grin. “Our passengers giving you a hard time?”

“Something like that,”  Castiel said, sitting in the co-pilot's seat. He buckled in and put on the headphones. His eyes did a cursory sweep of the instrument panel. He was competent, but Mick was the better pilot.

“Is everything set at home?” Mick asked soberly. He was quick with a smile, but was one of  Castiel’s best bodyguards as well. He was lethal with any type of  blade, having done his training with the Irish Army and he also did a stint with the Gurkhas before meeting  Castiel . 

“Ketch has taken care of the house and grounds, and he’s hired a few extra men.”  Castiel never asked where Ketch, his head of security, found the people that protected his home, and he didn’t want to know. 

“How will he take to the visitors?”  Castiel knew what Mick was getting at. Ketch had been  Castiel’s lover for a few years now, and he was  possessive of  Castiel’s time. Up until now, it wasn’t an issue.  Castiel gave Ketch his body and in return,  Castiel fed from him on occasion. It worked for both of them. 

“He will protect them,”  Castiel assured him. Ketch would do his duty. 

Within hours, Mick was landing the jet at a private runway at SeaTac. The Gulfstream V taxied down the tarmac and stopped at a small terminal.  Castiel stood as the engine’s noise stopped. “I will see you at the house later?”

“Aye, as soon as I get my baby put to bed,” he said, rubbing his palm over the gleaming wood of the console. 

“I think you and the eldest Winchester will get along fine,”  Castiel lamented and patted his friend on the shoulder. “And remember not to make her too comfortable. I will need you to go back to New York and pick up Missouri tomorrow.”

In the cabin, Meg was sitting up  and on her phone , while the three Winchesters sat solemnly awaiting what was coming next.  Castiel sympathized with them. Their lives had been uprooted because of centuries of unrest in the supernatural realm. 

“If you are ready, we can disembark and get to the house where you will be safe.” The three stood as the door opened and Ketch appeared. He met  Castiel’s eyes and then took in the passengers.

“The car is waiting,  Castiel .”  Castiel motioned for the Winchesters to go ahead and he scooped Meg into his arms to carry her. Her motorized wheelchair would be waiting at home.  Castiel noticed how Dean’s eyes focused on Ketch’s sidearm. In the coming days, he would see much more. 

It was overcast, but the rain was light as they hurried to the full-size SUV. Ketch and one of his other men handled the luggage and stowed it into another SUV .  Castiel knew another car would be following, making a total of three vehicles with armed guards. There would be no chances taken with his charges.

The wrought iron gates swung open as they pulled into the driveway. Beside him, Dean craned his neck to see out the window. “Nice digs.”  Castiel stared at his home and tried to see it from another’s perspective. “I expected a castle.”

Sam rolled his eyes and Meg laughed. “A Transylvanian castle in Seattle might be hard to explain,”  Castiel said dryly, knowing Dean was having fun at his expense. 

“Have you ever been to Transylvania?” Dean asked curiously.

“No. I never had the desire. I have, however, visited the  Carpathian Mountains, where many of the myths originate. Most wrong.”

The SUV came to a stop and the door was opened by Ketch. The dogs came around the house, barking and the three Winchesters shrank back into the vehicle. “They will not harm you,”  Castiel assured them. He reached out his hand to pet the three  Caucasian Shepherds. The guard dogs, imported from his motherland were large, each weighing in at close to two hundred pounds. They were sweet dogs, but territorial, something  Castiel insisted on when Ketch recommended acquiring trained canines for security. 

Dean got out and helped his sister-in-law out of the rear seat. Sam followed and  Castiel reached in to heft Meg into his arms. When he turned, Cain was there with her chair. He set her down carefully. “ Castiel , it is good to have you home. And you too, Meg.”

“It is good to be home. Will you assist Meg and Ketch with things while I show our guests around the grounds?”

Once everyone else moved inside with the luggage,  Castiel introduced the dogs. “They are Caucasian Shepherds, this one is Kira, and the two boys are Ruslan and  Vadik . Once they know you are a friend, they will never bother you. “ D ruz'ya ,”  Castiel said to the dogs and each one wagged its tail. 

“They are beautiful,” Sam said, kneeling and holding out his hand. The massive dogs came to him and allowed him to pet their heads. “Are they strictly guard dogs or are they pets too?”

Castiel smiled at the dogs. “They were bought as guard dogs, but Meg tends to spoil them.”  Vadik came to his side and sat, leaning against his thigh.  Castiel rested his hand on the dog’s head. “Shall we take a walk?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief Ketch/Castiel scene in this chapter, but nothing goes beyond touching/kissing.

Dean couldn’t lie. He’d expected a dark, foreboding castle. The house was beautiful and imposing, but not at all what he’d imagined. As the SUV rolled through the gates, and around the circular drive, he gazed up at it. Three stories, if you could count the dormer windows up top. Too fancy to be for an attic. The backdrop wasn’t the Pacific since he could see land on the other side, so it had to be Puget Sound. A large fountain set in the center of the driveway.

“Nice digs. I expected a castle,” Dean said, his eyes on Novak. While his knowledge of vampires was limited to late night discussions with Bobby, he knew more than he let on. It was kind of fun to see Novak get insulted by the banter Dean threw at him. Meg laughed and Dean smirked. At least someone thought he was funny.

When the vehicle stopped, the dude that met them at the airport opened their doors. Dean had caught sight of the gun and it made the reality of their current situation harder to swallow. 

Novak got out first and Dean put his leg down on the white concrete when three huge monsters came tearing around the house, barking. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck are those?” Dean asked Sam, pulling himself back inside the SUV. He reached for the door handle to seal them in, when Novak placed a hand near Dean’s.

“They will not harm you,”  Novak said, reaching down to pet the dogs, at least Dean thought they were dogs. He wasn’t an animal lover. It wasn’t like he hated them, he just didn’t see pets as a  _ must have _ . He’d dated a girl with a Great Dane once and he thought that was a fucking giant, but these... these were large and hairy. Novak was petting them and he was looking at them with... affection? Did vampires even have feelings like that?

His social graces needed some help, since he hadn’t introduced them to the pilot, the drivers, or the brooding guy from the airport, who was now staring at Dean like he was a pile of shit from one of the dogs. 

As Novak helped Meg from the SUV, another man appeared, pushing a wheelchair.  “ Castiel , it is good to have you home. And you too, Meg.” Another introduction not made. Maybe Dean should speak up , but before he could open his mouth, Novak sent everyone on their way .

“It is good to be home. Will you assist Meg and Ketch with things while I show our guests around the grounds?”  Dean wanted to argue and say he just wanted to get settled, but Sam and Eileen looked excited. He stifled his petulance and waited for the tour to begin.

Sam was staring at the dogs like he wanted to cuddle with them, and Novak obliged him by introducing the creatures. All Dean got from the conversation was they were a Russian breed and apparently understood the guttural language. When Novak spoke to them, his accent changed from upper crust asshat to sexy Russian mafia.  “ D ruz'ya . ”  Dean wondered what it meant. The subject of the canines was exhausted thankfully.  “Shall we take a walk?”

“Yeah, let’s get this party started, so I can get settled and make some calls,” Dean said with a put-upon inflection in his voice.

“There will be no calls,” Novak said, his tone cool and commanding.

“You can kiss my ass,” Dean started, but Sam gave him Bitch-Face Number Eight, which told Dean he was being a brat and he should cool his jets. He bit back his planned tirade.

“By now, Alistair will know you’ve been  moved.  Bobby’s home is probably being watched and I would imagine his phone calls are being monitored. It is only a matter of time before they locate you again since they know you are alive. Every precaution has been taken to keep you safe here, but we will not risk letting them find you until we are ready.” It made sense, but depending on someone...  _ something _  like Novak chafed Dean’s ass.

“Whatever,” he muttered, needing to have the last word. Novak stared him down until Dean finally ceded victory. 

Novak led them to some out buildings where a nice boat was stored, as well as kayaks, fishing gear, and other sporting equipment. “There is a gym in here for the men, and also one in the house for your use.” 

The tour continued to the shore line. “What if they come by water?” Eileen asked, staring out at the dark, choppy waves of the Sound.

“One of our Council members has taken care of that.” Novak walked to the water’s edge, seeming to not care that his fancy loafers were getting wet. He bent and slapped at the water a couple times and Dean was startled when several heads appeared on the surface. Large eyes watched them before sinking back below. “Sirens...” Novak informed them. “Their elder has informed them of our plight. They will keep watch. ”

“Holy shit... sorry... I mean... wow,” Sam stammered, his gaze still on the water. “Are they... I mean... could the y  hurt... humans?”

“Sirens have evolved from the days when they lured sailors to their deaths. Now, with the treaty in place, they are forbidden to call attention to themselves. They remain in the deepest part of the ocean, living peacefully.”

“Cool... that’s pretty cool,” Sam said and Dean had to admit seeing the pale blue creatures was an awesome experience. They seemed to be female except for one, and all had a mouth full of sharp looking teeth. He knew he wouldn’t be trying any of the fishing gear, not with those things on guard.

In a small gazebo, a hot tub sat, and Dean’s interest perked up. Now, that might come in handy for a late - night rendezvous with... with... who? Dean was stuck with his brother, his sister-in-law, a bloodsucker and a houseful of bodyguards. He’d be stuck with his right hand for the duration of his stay. Speaking of... “About how long are we going to be under house arrest?”

“If you are asking how long you will remain under my care and protection, I cannot answer that. Many factors can come into play. It could be days, weeks, or even months. The Council has formulated plans, but we must wait to see what Alistair and his witch do next.” He turned and started up the craggy beach to the back of the house. The lawn was well tended, even being March in the Pacific Northwest.

“Months... oh, hell, no,” Dean shouted, hurrying to catch up. 

“Dean, we should just do what he says...” Sam called out to Dean’s retreating back.

Dean caught up with Novak and grabbed his arm. Out of nowhere, his bodyguard appeared and Dean was sure the dude was going to punch him, but Novak pushed him back. “No, Ketch.”

“I will not let a guest in our home lay his hands on you,” Ketch snarled, cold eyes going from Dean to Novak.

“It is  _ my  _ home and you will do what I say,” Novak snapped. The two men glared at each other until Dean got uncomfortable.

“Look, I’m not a threat to your... your boss, but...” He looked at Novak. “you cannot keep us prisoner here.”

“Ketch, please take Sam and Eileen into the house and show them into the kitchen for refreshments. We will meet you there in a few minutes.” Dean watched as his family followed the obviously unhappy bodyguard through a set of French doors. He rounded on Dean then, his calm veneer disappearing. “Listen to me,  you  ungrateful shit. I made a promise to your parents and the Council to keep you safe. I take my vows seriously. This isn’t all about you. They will use your brother and his wife to get to you, and if they do, the entire world could be affected. So, grow the fuck up.” Dean winced. These assholes weren’t just after him... no, he had to protect Sam and Eileen. And if it meant staying here under Novak’s  _ protection _ , so be it. He suddenly felt the weight of all the events over the last... had it only been two days...settle onto his shoulders. 

“Okay, we’ll do it your way,” Dean muttered, the words leaving an awful taste in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Novak said cool l y. “Shall we go inside?”

“Whatever,” Dean said, unable to rein back his petulance. Novak stared at him for a few moments. His eyes were an almost unnatural blue. Pretty... Dean shook that thought from his head and nodded. “I could use a beer.”

When they got inside, Novak led them briskly through a beautifully furnished living room, its windows giving a spectacular view of the Sound. To his left, he saw a formal dining room, and then they entered the kitchen. Dean was awestruck. He’d love to get in here and cook, but the woman who was currently bustling around serving lunch to Sam and Eileen didn’t look like she played well with others. “Dean, this is Miss Hess. She will be attending to your meals. If you have any requests, please let her know.” 

“I’m partial to cheeseburgers,” Dean said, his most charming smile in place.

“I shall try to remember that,” she replied and set a large bowl of salad on the island. Dean took one of the barstools next to his brother gloomily.  _ Salad _ . Thankfully, there was diced chicken to add to it. A whirring sound had him turning in time to see Meg enter the kitchen in an electric wheelchair, not the same one from earlier.

“God, I’m starved. ”  She drove the thing to a lower counter that held a laptop and several cookbooks. The chair allowed her to fit under it perfectly. “No salad for me, Helga. I’ll take some of that roast beef from Sunday, on sourdough.”

The cook sniffed, but opened the refrigerator. Novak  sent Meg an exasperated look. “Can I have one of those too, Helga,” Dean asked brightly. The cook gave him a scathing look and slammed a foil wrapped package onto the counter. Meg laughed.

“Her name is Gillian, Dean. Gillian Hess. Meg likes to irritate her for reasons I’ll never understand.”

“Oh, shit, sorry, Miss Hess,” Dean stuttered. Thanks to Meg, he’d made a shitty first impression on the woman in charge of their food. Way to go, Winchester.

Dean noted that Novak disappeared as they ate. Meg kept them entertained with tales of her travels with the vampire. It became even more obvious that she was half in love with the guy. 

When they finished eating, Novak, as if sensing they were through, showed them the house. It wasn’t as imposing as he first assumed. Most rooms were comfortable, yet stylish, but even Dean could tell the furnishings and artwork were expensive. 

Upstairs, they were shown to their rooms to rest before  dinner.  Dean’s room was masculine and his bag was on the bed. He had his own bathroom and he unpacked before deciding to take a short nap. He set his alarm on his phone and closed his eyes. Sleep came fast.

He awoke to the chorus of Ramble On and he hurriedly slid his thumb over the screen to stop the alarm. For a few seconds, he wasn’t sure where he was and then it all came back to him, the witch, Bobby’s ominous talk, Novak’s arrival, and the trip to Seattle. 

After a quick, but satisfying shower, Dean dressed in another pair of jeans and a  henley . He hadn’t brought much in the way of clothes, so he hoped  _ dressing _  for dinner wasn’t a thing for Novak. He made his way downstairs and when he got to the kitchen, Miss Hess was in there alone. Not wanting to be alone with the formidable woman, he backed up and found the room Novak had called the den. It was where the French doors leading to the backyard and the Sound were. No one was there and he went to the massive bookcases lining one wall. The latest best sellers shared shelves with leather-bound classics. Dean loved to read, but didn’t have much time for it. He supposed his forced vacation would allow him the pleasure. He took a copy of Moby Dick off the shelf and opened it. Damn, was this an original? Reverently, he placed it back in its place before taking a Clive Cussler off the shelf. Nothing like Dirk Pitt to take Dean’s mind of the shitshow of his current situation.

He settled into a suede recliner and opened the book. He’d only read half a chapter when Novak appeared, followed by Sam and Eileen. “Good, I’m glad you have made yourself at home,” Novak said. “Sam, Eileen, please do the same. While you are here, think of my house as your own.” 

Sam and Eileen both thanked him. Suck ups, Dean thought morosely. “Dinner is usually ready by six, so we can talk more while we eat.”

The three turned to go and Dean reluctantly put his book down and followed. The dining room was set formally, right down to glasses of wine. Dean was more of a beer drinker, but he was happy to have any alcohol. They sat and Meg joined them, parking her chair at an empty place next to Novak’s. Dean found himself across from the man... vampire. He watched as slender fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass and bring up to plush lips. “I didn’t think vampires needed to eat or drink... other than blood.”

Dean ignored Sam’s bitchface. It was the one telling him he was being rude. Dean didn’t care. Novak swirled the red wine in the glass, took a sip, and lowered it to the pristine white tablecloth. Then he met Dean’s eyes. “We don’t. However, I’m not a barbarian and do enjoy a finely aged wine or deliciously prepared  meal .”

“Huh,” Dean mumbled, picking up his own glass. The wine was crisp and sweet. 

Miss Hess appeared pushing a small cart. She served them each a plate. Beef tips in a light gravy set upon a mound of creamy mashed potatoes. To the side were sautéed green beans. A platter of rolls was placed in the middle of the table. Not standing on ceremony, Dean began to eat. The only sounds were the clink of utensils against the fine china for several minutes.

“Is there a plan?” Sam finally asked, his eyes trained on Novak.

“A plan?” Novak repeated and then set his fork to the side. He put his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. “An old friend of your mother’s will be arriving tomorrow. She will work with Dean to hone his powers. We hope that she can help him if he ever needs to defend himself. Then we wait for Alistair and his followers to make their move. He’s not stupid and he doesn’t want to go up against me. He will bide his time.”

“Why don’t we go on the offensive?” Dean asked. “I think sitting around waiting for him to strike is stupid.”

“And what would you have me do? Take my men and search for him, leaving you unguarded?” Novak’s eyes held a silent challenge.

“I thought you said this place was pretty much a fortress,” Dean retorted. Putting down his own utensils and meeting Novak’s gaze.

“It is, but you are my charge. I will not leave you unattended. There are many members of the council who are watching and waiting for Alistair to make his play for you. Most on our side, some on his. The best thing we can do is prepare for his arrival.” As if dismissing Dean, Novak pushed his chair back and stood. “If you will excuse me, I have some calls to make.” 

Meg whistled softly. “You sure are an asshole.”

“Why? Because I ask questions of the  _ great dark lord _ ?” Dean pushed his plate away, his appetite gone.

“You could try showing him some respect. He is on your side, Winchester. You might want to remember that.” She drained her wine glass and slammed it down on the table. Without another word, she left the dining room too. 

Dean looked at his brother’s pinched expression “What?” 

“He’s been nothing but nice to us, Dean. He’s giving us protection, letting us live in his home, feeding us...”

“Yeah, so? How can we know we can really trust him? We only have his word.” Somehow Dean knew  Novak’s  word meant something, but he hated to admit it.

Sam and Eileen settled into the den with Meg to watch television, but Dean was too restless. He retrieved his book and went upstairs. There was a gym at the end of the hall, but Dean didn’t feel like working out. Inside his room, he paced. Who was this friend of his mother’s? What was she going to teach him? What did Novak have to gain by helping him? The questions muddled up his mind and for the first time since his childhood, he was scared and unsure.

Sleep wouldn’t come and the book, while good, couldn’t hold his attention. He pulled on a t-shirt over his sleep pants and reached for the doorknob. He’d go for a walk... maybe watch some television. Low voices from the hall stopped his hand. Carefully, he twisted the knob and cracked the door.

Ketch stood in the hall, in his black cargo pants, barefoot, and shirtless. Novak was holding his bedroom door open. Dean’s eyes widened as Ketch reached for Novak, hands roaming over his chest. “I’m glad  you’re  home,” Ketch said softly, reaching up to kiss Novak. The vampire’s hands settled on Ketch’s waist and he returned the kiss, pulling a moan out of the bodyguard. Something akin to jealousy coursed through Dean. He shook his head. No, he wasn’t jealous. Why would he be? Novak could fuck whoever he wanted to. It didn’t  matter  to Dean.  _ Not one bit _ .

Suddenly, intense eyes met his. Dean froze. He’d been caught being a fucking voyeur. Before he could close his door, Novak pushed Ketch away. He murmured something to the other man and Ketch’s expression changed to anger. “What the fuck,  Castiel ? You’ve been gone for weeks. I know you need to feed. What is your problem?” Ketch’s hand reached for Novak’s crotch. “See, you’re hard for me. You want me. You’ve always wanted me.”

Dean could not have looked away if his life depended on it. Carefully and deliberately, Novak removed the man’s hand. “I said no. Perhaps you are letting yourself get too possessive of me, Arthur. I belong to no one.” Novak’s voice was  ice  cold.

“It’s him, isn’t it? The witch. I saw the way you looked at him,” Ketch snapped, stepping even closer to Novak, almost in his face. “You want his blood?” He laughed bitterly. “The Council would have you staked for that.” 

From his doorway, Dean could see the muscles in Novak’s jaw tic with barely controlled anger.

“You should go, Arthur. Leave me be and think about your future in my employ.”

“You’ll regret this,  Castiel . I can satisfy you. You know I can.” Dean heard the desperation in the bodyguard’s voice. Shit, was everyone around the dude in love with him? He shut his door soundlessly. He leaned against it and a few seconds later, heard the sound of Novak’s door closing.

He needed some fresh air.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The eldest Winchester was going to drive him to madness. Just when  Castiel thinks he’s on the same page about their safety, he goes and starts another argument. He didn’t want them to feel like prisoners. He’d opened up his home...  _ his own home _ ... to them. Surely, even Dean could understand what that meant. Immortals like him were careful who they allowed into their territory. 

He was fighting  Castiel at every turn. The man had no idea what was lying in wait for him. One false move and Alistair could strike. Frustrated,  Castiel had to leave the dinner table before he snapped. It took him hundreds of years to  learn to  rein in his temper, only to have Dean Winchester test it over and over again.

After checking in with the Council to assure them all was well, he paced his chambers. He should feed. The packaged blood on the plane had satisfied his urges, but he knew he needed more. His strength would be needed in the coming days. His mind wandered to Ketch. His lover. His animosity toward Dean could become an issue. Arthur was filled with raw passion and while he was possessive, it hadn’t bothered  Castiel until now. 

Castiel glanced at his watch. It was only seven. They should be done with dinner by now and hopefully, Meg was being a good hostess. She was the one person he trusted with his life. Giving up on pacing,  Castiel sat down at the small writing desk in his bedroom. He wished he knew Alistair’s plan. The demon would stop at nothing to get Dean and  Castiel had vowed to protect him with his life if necessary. He rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t tired, far from it. The night was his time. Ingrained from centuries of hiding what he was... a monster of the dark.

He heard a light tread in the hall. Arthur. The need thrummed through him, but the want wasn’t there. Strange. The knock came while he was still thinking about the lack of desire for the man. What had changed since he’d seen him last? 

Opening the door, he took in the man before him.  Ketch had a room in the house, just as Meg and Miss Hess did. All the other employees had their own places and worked normal shifts. Arthur was barefoot and shirtless, still wearing the pants he favored to work in. 

“ Castiel ,” he whispered and stepped forward, his hands  pushing away the robe and resting  on  Castiel’s chest. “I’m glad you’re home.” The kiss was expected and  Castiel wanted to feel something... anything. He put his hands on Ketch’s waist and drew him closer, his mouth taking what his bodyguard was offering. Ketch moaned and lifted his chin, baring his neck for  Castiel to take. He could feel the pulse beneath his lips, hear the rush of blood, smell the intoxicating  aroma ...  His fangs extended and he wanted to take. He opened his mouth and then froze.  _ No _ , that wasn’t Arthur ’s scent.

His eyes opened and found Dean’s. A wave of desire unlike anything he’d ever known coursed through him. He straightened, pushing Arthur back a step. His lover narrowed his eyes. “Not tonight. I don’t...” He couldn’t make sense of what he was feeling.  

“What the fuck,  Castiel ? You’ve been gone for weeks. I know you need to feed. What is your problem?” Arthur’s hand cupped his cock. “See, you’re hard for me. You want me. You’ve always wanted me.” It was true, up until now. Ketch had been the type of lover  Castiel needed. He took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around Ketch’s wrist, pulling it away from him.

“I said no. Perhaps you are letting yourself get too possessive of me, Arthur. I belong to no one,”  Castiel said, his tone cold. He knew at that moment, things would never be the same between them. 

“It’s him, isn’t it? The witch. I saw the way you looked at him.” Ketch brought his face close, his words bitter. “You want his blood?” His high-pitched laugh mirthless in the quiet of the house. “The Council would have you staked for that.” 

Anger replaced the regret and his voice dropped to a dangerous level. “You should go, Arthur. Leave me be and think about your future in my employ.”

Ketch’s face changed to one of desperation. “You’ll regret this,  Castiel . I can satisfy you. You know I can.” 

Castiel saw Dean’s door shut. He’d seen enough then. He was embarrassed the man had witnessed Ketch’s possessive display. “ Castiel , please. You can never have him.”

“I know.” The words sound final even to him. He pulled himself to his full height and met Arthur’s eyes. “You have a decision to make. Stay in my employ and treat me and my guests with respect, or pack your things and leave. I will make sure your next employer knows what an asset you were to me.”

“That’s it then?” Ketch seemed to deflate. All fight left him and  Castiel saw the man underneath the tough exterior. Had Arthur been in love with him? Love was such a wasted emotion. He learned that the hard way. Without another word, his most trusted bodyguard turned and walked down the dark hallway, entering his own room. Would he stay?  Castiel was torn. 

Shutting his door, he stared at his bed. If Dean hadn’t opened his door, would he be tangled up with Arthur now? Naked flesh, a wanton lover... the taste of fresh blood freely given.  Castiel growled low in his throat. The need to feed unfulfilled. In the old days, he would have taken to the woods and ran down a stag, but civilization encroached on his home and the deer moved on. He huffed out a frustrated breath and cinched the belt on his robe tighter. Silently, he left his room and moved down the stairs. 

He stared into the night as he held the bags of blood under the hot water. He sensed no danger, but knew it was coming and he had to be prepared. Alistair would stop at nothing. The demon didn’t know of the prophecy. The son of the most powerful of witches would reign and the world would flourish. All species would be as one and war would be a thing of the past. It was written. He pierced one of the packets with his fangs and drank. 

“You are restless, my lord,” Miss Hess said from across the room. He didn’t turn. She’d been with him for two hundred years and he could never break her of the habit of calling him by his title. “I assumed Ketch would be fulfilling your needs tonight.” No other employee, besides Meg, would be so impudent.

“That relationship has changed. He is the head of my security team, nothing more.” In the reflection of the window, he saw her incline her head. 

“And he is fine with this development?”

“He will be if he values his job,”  Castiel said coolly. Her throaty laughter made him turn. “I see nothing humorous about it.”

“Ah,  Castiel , the human was in love with you. They cannot turn off their feelings like a tap.” For emphasis, she came closer and reached around him, cutting off the water. She took one of the bags and brought it to her lips. They stood in companionable silence as they fed. 

She took the evidence of their meal to a special container where it would be incinerated. Suddenly,  Castiel’s senses picked up movement in the house. Ketch? No, the tread was tentative, like the person was unfamiliar with the layout. Miss Hess heard it too and lifted her chin. “The witch.”

“He has a name. And by rights, Samuel is one as well.”

“The younger one’s powers are weak, left dormant for too long. He might be able to do parlor tricks if he practiced enough.” He knew she wasn’t trying to be cruel, it wasn’t her way. She was brutally honest though. 

“Dean’s have been dormant just as long,” he mused. She raised an eyebrow. 

“Have you told him about the prophecy?” 

“No.” That conversation was one  Castiel would let the Council take care of. He was Dean’s protector, nothing more.  _ Nothing  _ more.

Leaving the kitchen soundlessly, he followed the scent of Dean through his home. The French doors stood slightly ajar. Curious,  Castiel looked into the night. He was the shadowy figure at the water’s edge. He could not blame the man. The sound and sight of the water relaxed him as well. He would lecture Dean on the safety about leaving the house at night, but for now, it was safe. The sirens guarded the water and the  fae would warn him if someone or something approached through the woods. 

Castiel watched as three large shapes appeared at the corner of the house and moved steadily toward Dean. The dogs. He hoped Dean wouldn’t be afraid. 

He was about to turn and leave Dean to his thoughts when a dark form rose from the water. A siren. He saw the tension in Dean’s shoulders. He should intervene. The sentinel would not harm him. To do so would cause the Council to seek justice. No, Dean was safe, but probably out of his element. 

Pushing the door open,  Castiel stepped out into the night. His long stride crossed the flagstone patio and the lawn. As he neared the shore, he stopped suddenly. The siren had appeared as  Castiel’s twin, save for the dark scales that started at his waist. 

The dogs were at Dean’s side and  Castiel saw one of the man’s hands resting on Kira’s massive head. He stayed still, listening.

“... your deepest desire. I can be him.”  Castiel’s temper flared. Sirens appeared as want you wanted. They sensed your needs and became that  _ thing _ you wanted or needed most. Why did the siren look like  Castiel then? Dean despised him. He’d made that abundantly clear. 

“Yeah, well you’ve got it all wrong, bud. You should have gone with the blonde hair and big tits angle. That’s what I desire.” Dean showed no fear of the siren, so  Castiel hung back to see what happened.

The siren’s laugh was shrill and the dogs whined. “I know what you desire.” The siren moved closer to Dean, his lower body out of the water now. His erect penis jutted out from his smooth scales. As  Castiel watched, the siren’s tail formed two legs and he appeared almost human. The resemblance to himself was uncanny.

“You don’t know shit,” Dean snapped, but  Castiel could see the witch’s eyes traveling up and down the siren’s body. He could hear Dean’s heart beating now. Faster than normal.  Castiel cocked his head. Dean was aroused. When he took a step into the water,  Castiel moved forward.

“Dean,”  Castiel’s voice rang out and the siren dove under the water. With a flip of his tail, he was gone. Dean shook himself and blinked at  Castiel .

“What are you doing out here?”

“I heard you leave the house. I wanted to make sure you were safe. I see the dogs found you.” He would not mention the siren. Let Dean believe he hadn’t seen anything. “You should stay inside.”

“You putting me on house arrest now?”

“My job is to protect you, Dean. At all costs.”

“Because you promised my parents.” Dean phrased the question as a statement.

“Yes.”

“And that’s the only reason? Because I  gotta say that things aren’t adding up. Why did this Council send those things...” Dean pointed out to the water. “... to guard the water. You’re not telling me the whole story, are you?”

“It isn’t my story to tell,”  Castiel evaded Dean’s question. “We should go in. You’re cold.” He’d come out in flannel pants and a t-shirt. He was shivering.

“And you’re not?” Dean asked, eyeing  Castiel’s robe. In his haste to get to Dean, it was gaping open. He pulled it together, though he’d never been modest.

“Temperatures rarely affect me.”

“Right, because you’re basically a corpse.” Dean’s words stung. It had been centuries since he’d felt worthless and this man... this witch... had succeeded in a few short hours. 

“As I said, you should go in.”  Castiel walked away. He needed to be away from Dean’s heartbeat and the smell of his blood. The dogs whimpered unsure whether to follow their master or stay and protect Dean. In the end, Kira remained with him, and the two boys followed  Castiel . At the door, they nuzzled against him and then raced back to their sister. Refusing to look back,  Castiel made his way to his study. There was always work to do. He sat at his desk and picked up the picture of Balthazar. “You would hate him, my friend.” He touched a fingertip to the glass. “He’s brash, stubborn, irritating... handsome.”

Castiel was still at his computer when dawn broke. Miss Hess had set out breakfast pastries earlier and she was, no doubt, back in her chambers. She was still young and required more rest than he. Meg, he was sure, would entertain their guests. A part of him wanted to remain in his sanctuary, but Missouri was arriving today and he must meet with his security team. It meant interacting with Ketch and he was not looking forward to it. He was sorry he’d hurt the man, but perhaps it was better this way. He wasn’t capable of love.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean slept, but not well. His body was still on the schedule of a night-time disc jockey. He knew he should be exhausted with the upheaval of his life, but he felt wired instead. Like an electric current was zipping through his nervous system. 

The sun was high when he finally stretched. Last night’s memor ies came flooding back. The scene with Ketch and Novak, the siren, and then Novak, himself, at the water’s edge, half dressed. Heat settled in his cock and he shifted to his back, tucking his hands behind his head. 

All his life, he’d been taught of other beings... that things that go bump in the night were real, but to actually see them, talk to them, it was mind blowing. He’d seen the sirens yesterday afternoon, in the light of day, the male had greenish-blue scales, a mouth full of sharp teeth, narrow, almond-shaped eyes, and long, stringy hair. He’d been nothing like he was last night. He could have been Novak’s twin. And fuck, when he came out of the water. His cock long and erect, not that of a human male... no, it came out of a sheath like most mammals, but was thick and came to a point. Then as Dean stared, the siren’s scales disappeared, leaving slick skin and a normal dick, though bigger than he’d ever seen out of a porn movie.

He’d been aroused, damn, he could admit that to himself. He was stunning, standing there in the moonlight. His skin alabaster... a fantasy Dean wasn’t aware he had. He reached under the waistband of his pants and let his fingers slide over his hard cock. If Novak hadn’t shown up, what would have happened? Would he have let the siren touch him? Fuck him? He groaned and jerked his cock. His fist flew up and down, dry, and to the point of being painful. He didn’t care. He needed release. His back arched off the bed, eyes squeezed shut, trying and failing to imagine someone else, anyone else, but Novak. As he came, his mind betrayed him... blue eyes and the soft smile  Novak had graced Meg with were all he saw.

He lay there panting, his cum cooling in his pants, and blamed Novak for everything that was wrong in his life. He knew it was stupid and he’d seen the flash of pain in the vampire’s eyes last night when he’d insulted him yet again, but he had to hold someone responsible, didn’t he?

The shower should have made him feel better, but he was still out of sorts. He didn’t bother shaving, since there was no one to impress around here. Following the smell of coffee, he found his family and Meg in the kitchen. “Where’s Helga?” He played along with Meg’s joke and she laughed.

“She sleeps in the mornings.”

“Is she...” Dean began, and caught himself. He wasn’t a rude person. Something about Novak brought that out in him.

“Yes.  Castiel found her chained in the basement of a church, starved and out of her mind. He brought her to a safe place and took care of her, taught her how to control her hunger. She’s loyal to him.” Meg poured herself a glass of orange juice and only then, did Dean note that one of the counters was lower than the others. The pitcher of juice, the coffeemaker, and the platter of pastries were there so Meg could easily help herself. Was that Novak’s idea or the cook’s?

Sam and Eileen were already seated at the breakfast bar, munching on bowls of twigs and berries by the look of it. Gross. Dean wanted bacon and eggs, but guessed it was too soon to take over the kitchen. Miss Hess was fuckin’ scary.

He’d just bit into a flaky  bearclaw when a commotion outside drew their attention. “Ah, Missouri must have arrived,” Meg said breezily. She wiped her hands on a napkin and steered her wheelchair out of the room.

“Missouri Moseley. Meg told us about her last night. She took Dad’s place on the Council.” Dean frowned. Maybe she had something to do with their parents’ death then. Did she kill them to get a seat at the grownups table?

They stayed in the kitchen. It wasn’t their place to greet guests. Dean picked out a raspberry  danish and groaned. It was even better than the  bearclaw . 

“Well, well, look at how handsome those boys are now. Last time I saw you, you were skinny, little boys.” The woman wasn’t what Dean expected. Her chocolate brown skin was flawless and her ample bosom strained the front of her dress.  A large gold  medallion hung from her neck and her smile was warm. Dean stayed where he was while Sam and Eileen stood to greet her. The humming under his skin increased and he set down his coffee cup when his hand began to shake.

She moved closer to him. “Ah, yes, you’re feeling it, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said, knowing he sounded like a petulant child.

Her laughter rang out and Novak appeared behind her. She wrapped her hand around his arm. “Well, you said he was a stubborn one.” Dean pursed his lips in a pout. He hated the thought of Novak talking about him behind his back. Before he could come up with a retort, she continued.  “That feeling under your skin, it’s your power feeding off mine. Covens are stronger together. We share it, making it stronger.” She turned to Sam. “What do you feel?”

“It’s like when your arm goes to sleep and then starts to wake. Pins and needles?” He looked like an eager student expecting a gold star from the teacher. Dean pulled him away, putting himself between the witch and his brother. 

“Stop whatever you’re doing to him ,” Dean snapped.

“Oh, hon, I’m not doing anything. It’s his gift. It’s your mother’s blood reacting to mine. She was my friend. My sister. ” Dean’s own skin felt hot and his heart was thudding uncomfortably. The witch’s ebony skin glistened with sweat and she reached out to him, fingers outstretched. Dean backed away. Her smile was warm, but Dean couldn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust anyone, but Sam, Eileen, and Bobby. 

Finally, she nodded regally and said, “ Castiel , will you show me to my room? I’d like to rest before we begin.”

“Begin what?” Dean asked, his eyes darting from Novak to the witch.

“Class,” she said with a soft tinkle of laughter. Then they were gone. 

“Dean, they are trying to help us... help you. Can’t you just...” Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, be nicer.”

“Sam...”

“Sam is right, Dean. Meg told us that a demon is hunting for you. This Council is offering protection.  Castiel has opened his home to us. I don’t want anything to happen to us... to you,” Eileen signed rapidly.

“ _ Castiel _ ?” His family was on a first-name basis with a vampire now. Last week, he was wondering which album to feature on his late-night show, and now, he was surrounded by creatures from nightmares. Why couldn’t he be normal? Why did his parents have to die before they could make him understand what he was?

Sam and Eileen were watching him now, a worried look in their eyes. “Fine. I’ll listen to them... but if they put either one of you in harm’s way, I’ll kill them,” Dean muttered.

Dean took a walk around the outside of the house, the three monster dogs following his every move. He supposed they were pretty cool... for great slobbering beasts. As he neared the edge of the wood line, the dogs whimpered and milled about in front of him, like they didn’t want him to go any further. “What? Timmy fell down the well?” He laughed at his own joke and tried to move one of the huge bodies out of the way. 

“They don’t like the woods,” Novak said from behind him. Dean spun around. “The  fae make them nervous.”

“Fae? As in fairies... with wings?”

“And how else would we get to where we’re going, human?” A tinny voice said from behind him and he twirled around again. Nothing was there , but while he watched a circle of red capped mushrooms sprouted and grew at the edge of the woods. Dean took a step back, alarmed.

“Charlie, don’t tease him.” Dean glanced around. Novak looked amused.

“Who is Charlie?” He’d no sooner gotten the words out of his mouth when a tiny, winged creature appeared in front of his face. He resisted the urge to bat it... her... away. Bright red hair reflected the sun. He squinted and made out her features. 

“I am  queen of this forest.” She seemed to pull herself up to full height, all of six inches, her bright green wings fluttering like a hummingbird’s. 

 “A queen named  _ Charlie _ ?” Dean  scoffed, his eyebrow lifted in disbelief.

“Names can be used against the  fae or humans. Meg named her Charlie,” Novak informed him and the fairy flitted over to him, settling on his shoulder. 

“Is this the one?” She asked Novak. Dean suddenly felt like everyone and everything in this world knew about him and he was sadly undereducated.

“Yes.”

“I shall call him...” She tapped her finger against her cheek. “Bracíní.” Dean blinked. What the hell?

“I think that is a fine name, Charlie,” Novak said with a smile. Dean glared at him.

“What does it mean?” 

The fairy flew so close his eyes crossed. She pointed to his face. “Sun spots.”

“Freckles, Dean. It is the Gaelic word for freckles.”

“Very funny. What does she call you?”

 Charlie tugged at Novak’s ear to help her stand before taking flight again. “He is  Déardaoin.”

Without being asked this time, Novak supplied, “Thursday.” Dean opened his mouth to ask, but Novak shrugged. “My mother was religious, and in Russia at the time, she was persecuted for it. I was named for the  Castiel , the Angel of Thursday.”

“Persecuted?” Dean asked without thinking.

“She was put to death,” Novak said flatly. “You need to come with me. Missouri is waiting for you.” Dean watched him walk away, for the first time feeling like they had something in common. Both their mothers were killed for their beliefs. 

“Human?” Dean saw the fairy in his peri pheral vision and  smirked. How was he supposed to get used to this? In his forty years, the only supernatural persons... creatures... he’d known was his mother and father. Now, every time he turned around, he was meeting something new, something real humans only read about or saw on the movie screen.

“What , Tinkerbell ?” He asked softly, his mind still on Novak. His retreating back moving further away.

“ Déardaoin has lived in peaceful harmony with my charm for many season changes. Why don’t you like him?”

“Charm?” Dean thought that was an odd way to talk about oneself.

Her  gossamer  wings slowed and she hovered about ten inches from the end of his nose. Her nose was upturned and her eyes blinked a few times. “Charm. My... subjects. All the  fae in my forest,” she explained and Dean got it. Novak got along with the local fairy population. That pun made him smile. Ketch might not like being called by that term.

“I get it. Your people.” 

She tilted her head quizzically. “No,  fae are not ‘people’.” She said the term with such distaste that Dean had to laugh again. This little creature was quite funny without even trying.

“Gotcha. Look, Charlie, I  gotta go. It was  nice meeting you.”

“You as well,  Bracíní .” She flew into the trees and was gone in an instant. Dean let out a sigh and turned to follow Novak. He’d basically promised his brother and Eileen that he’d listen to the vampire and the older witch. It was time to act like an adult.

At the house, he let himself into the side door. Everyone was waiting for him and he exhaled. “What’s the plan?” He asked the witch. 

“I need to see what you can do. We’ll start with something small.” Sam and Eileen were sitting on the couch, like they were waiting on a tennis match to start. Meg, in her chair, was by the fireplace. Novak stood by her, his arm leaning on the mantle. 

She moved forward and placed a marble on the wooden floor. “Move it.” Dean smirked. Was she really going to ask him to do a stupid trick? He looked at it and found he didn’t have the slightest idea what do say or do. He looked up at her blankly. Instead of ridiculing him like he thought she would, she came to his side. “Concentrate on what you want to happen.” She lifted her hand and with flicked her finger and the marble shot across the room only to stop abruptly at the tip of Novak’s shoe. “Now, you, call it back.”

Dean stared at the marble once again and held out his hand like she’d done. He mumbled, “Come on, move.” Nothing happened. Memories of his boyhood came back. It had been so easy for him to bring the rain and call objects to him. What had he done then? Why couldn’t he remember? “It’s no use,” he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why do I even have to do this? You are supposed to keep the bad guys away from me, right?”

The witch and Novak shared a look and Dean grew angry. What were they hiding from him? He knew they were keeping some secret. His fists clinched in his pockets and suddenly the French doors crashed open. Meg cried out, Sam clutched at Eileen, and the witch laughed. “You’re angry.” Novak had tensed, his posture ready for a fight.

“I didn’t do that,” Dean said, his anger dissipating as quickly as it appeared.

“But you did, child.” She touched his arm and the sensation was back. Heat and electricity. “Perhaps we should go outside.  Castiel has a nice house and I don’t want to destroy it.”

They moved to the patio and she whispered something to Novak. He shook his head, but she looked persistent. Dean wanted to ask what was going on, but before he could, Novak grabbed Sam and bared his fangs. Eileen shrieked and Dean screamed, “No, leave him alone.”

The vampire flew backwards, landing in a heap against the garden wall. His arm was bent at an odd angle and blood flowed from a cut on his head and his lip. Dean dropped his hands and rushed to Sam. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” All the feelings of distrust and fear were back. He glared Novak. “You come near him again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Dean, child.” A soothing hand rubbed his back. “ Castiel did as I asked him to do. I told him to make you angry. I had to see your power for myself.” Dean’s thoughts swam. What the fuck? He stared at her and then Novak, who had risen to his feet and his arm was straight. The cuts on his face were closed, but the blood remained as a reminder of what Dean had done without even thinking.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I knew the easiest way to make you use your power was to pretend to harm Sam. I would never harm him,” Novak said softly. 

“You asked him to make me mad?” Dean shook his head at the woman. “But why?”

“We believe your powers are brought forth by strong emotions. I had to see for myself, so I know how to train you to harness them.”

Dean stared at all of them. Sam and Eileen were holding hands, but he seemed fine with Novak’s little act. “Fuck that,” he snapped. “And fuck you,” he said to the witch. He strode off, unsure where to go, but needing to get away. 

From behind him, he heard the witch say, “Leave him be,  Castiel .”

Apparently, Novak was just as stubborn as Dean, because he was suddenly by Dean’s side, matching him stride for stride. Dean knew he was inhumanly fast, but damn. A hand grabbed his wrist and he fought it, but Novak held firm. “I am sorry, Dean.”

“Yeah, I got that. Guess it wasn’t your fault... but hey, next time you want to piss me off, I suggest you don’t use Sam as your opening act.”

“Noted.” They walked in silence for a while. Down to the water’s edge and then back to the treeline. Dean pointed to the boathouse. “Ever use that boat?”

“No.”

“Then why have it?”

“My men use it to fish on their days off.”

Dean glanced over at him. “Bet they love you as a boss.”

A small smile transformed his face, despite the drying blood. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Your guy probably thinks so,” Dean said, knowing he was fishing, but didn’t care. He was curious about Ketch and Novak. It hadn’t ended well the night before and he’d heard Ketch accuse Novak of having a thing for him. Dean knew that was a stupid assumption. 

Novak was quiet for a moment and then stopped walking. He leaned against the wall of the boathouse. “It’s complicated.” Dean’s bark of laughter made Novak frown. “Why do you find that amusing?”

“It’s complicated sounds like something you’d post on Facebook, man.”

“I don’t use social media.” 

Dean settled next to  him, arms crossed over his chest. “So, how is it complicated. It was pretty clear that he’s got a thing for you.”

“Do you often eavesdrop on private conversations?” 

“Touché.” Dean wasn’t going to apologize though. If they wanted to have a lovers’ spat, they should have gone inside  Novak’s room.

“We’ve been lovers for two years. I believe he wants more than I’m capable of giving.”

“So, he wants dates and the ‘L’ word.”

“I don’t know what he wants,” Novak said honestly. “I thought it was a mutual... relationship. I gave him the sex he craved and he let me fed from him.”

“ Ewww , dude. TMI.”

“You asked.”

“Well, yeah, but now I’ve got a mental picture that I can’t unsee.”

“And what picture is it?” Dean snapped his head around to look at Novak and the man was actually grinning.

“Asshole.” They spent a few more seconds staring at the water lapping against the small dock. “You going to make it up to him?” At Novak’s questioning expression, Dean added, “I mean, two years is a long time. Don’t you want to fix it?”

“Not really.”

“Oh--kay then,” Dean shrugged. “Good talk. Anytime you need advice of the heart, call The Cowboy. I’ll spin a few tunes and tell you to buy flowers or jewelry. That will solve most relationship issues.” Dean knew it was a lie. Hell, he’d screwed up enough with people to know that.

“He thinks I am attracted to you.” And there it was, laid out for the world to see. Dean shook his head vehemently.

“Dude, we don’t talk about shit like that. Besides, I’m just a problem to you. Once this whole shitshow is over, I’m leaving and going back to my life and you’re... well, you’ll find another hot man to bang. You probably have ‘ em lined up.”

Novak gave a small huff of laughter. “Sex is an easy commodity to come by, Dean. I’m sure you know that. You are quite attractive. ” 

“Shut up.” Dean straightened and nodded toward the house. “Guess we need to continue my lessons, huh?”

The other man pulled himself to his full height and stared into Dean’s eyes. He couldn’t have looked away if his life depended on it. He could drown in the ocean reflected back at him. He swallowed. “Missouri has faith in you. I, as well.” With those words, Novak turned and Dean followed him back to the house.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief semi-sexual encounter with Cas and another man, but trust me, it isn't of any import. He is a vampire after all.

Castiel wasn’t sure what made Dean want to accept Missouri’s help, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dean needed to learn to not only defend himself, but to fight to fulfill the prophecy. The marble hadn’t moved and  Castiel had to wonder if Dean’s magic had laid dormant for too long. Then, in a fit of anger, Dean’s powers manifested themselves. The French doors had flown open, startling everyone in the room.

Outside, they all gathered to see what Missouri would do next. When she pulled him aside, he’d vehemently refused her suggestion. “You must make him angry enough to use his power, Castiel.”

“He has very little trust in me, Missouri. If I do something to anger him, it could sever it completely. You know that I have been sworn to protect him until the time comes...”

“I must see how he uses his emotions to use his magic. I have to see,  Castiel ,” she pleaded and he knew she was right. It would take both of them to get Dean ready. Time was of the essence. He nodded and stepped to the side while she took her place next to the elder Winchester. 

Castiel knew the sure way to garner Dean’s wrath. He snaked his arm around Sam, at the same time, extending his fangs. Between Eileen and Dean’s outbursts,  he had a chance to whisper, “Have no fear.”

The wave of power hit  Castiel like a freight train, sending him flying. The impact  from his body hitting the wall  broke his arm and blood flowed freely from his nose and a cut near his left ear. He sat on the cold ground and focused on Dean, as his body healed itself.

Once he seemed satisfied his brother wasn’t harmed, Dean turned his attention to Castiel.  “You come near him again, and I’ll kill you.”

Missouri soothed Dean and explained what she’d asked him to do while  Castiel stood and flexed his arm. The break had already healed thanks to the blood he’d ingested the previous night. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I knew the easiest way to make you use your power was to pretend to h urt Sam. I would never harm him.” 

Missouri tried to calm Dean, but the man wasn’t having it. “Fuck that, and fuck you,” he snarled at the older witch. He took off toward the outbuildings and  Castiel began to follow. Missouri tried to stop him but h e shook off her hand. Dean had a head start, but the vampire was fast. He wrapped his hand around Dean’s arm, holding tight as Dean fought him. 

“I am sorry, Dean,” he said sincerely. That last thing he’d wanted to do was  hurt Dean in any way.

“Yeah, I got that. Guess it wasn’t your fault... but hey, next time you want to piss me off, I suggest you don’t use Sam as your opening act ,” Dean said, as Castiel released his hold.

“Noted.” They walked and eventually, Dean started a tentative conversation.  Castiel found himself enjoying it. Even Dean’s curiosity about Ketch di dn’t bother him. He was honest and forthright. He’d even admitted that he found Dean attractive.  Castiel was thankful their reluctant truce was intact. 

Before they returned to the house, their eyes had met and  Castiel felt a pull, something unsettling, but not wholly unwelcome. To break the intensity of the stare, he said, “ Missouri has faith in you. I, as well.”

As they approached the house, Castiel saw that Meg, Eileen, and Sam were gone, leaving only Missouri standing on the patio. “Shall we continue?”

Dean shrugged. “Sure.”

“Deflect,” she said and before Dean could ask what she meant, she threw a rock at him. Dean lifted his hand and instead of catching it, a spark came from his palm and it exploded into tiny shards.  Castiel wasn’t sure who was more shocked, him or Dean. Missouri clapped her hands. “Good. Again.”

Another rock and another spark. The smell reminded  Castiel of lava from an active volcano. “Again,” Missouri shouted, tossing a larger stone at Dean. Again, it burst into pieces before it reached his hand. He bent to retrieve a piece and hissed at the heat. In his hand, he held a crystal shard.

“How am I doing this?” Dean asked, his eyes on the scattered pieces at his feet.

“We are waking your magic, child.” She came to stand in front of Dean and took his hands in hers. “Use your emotions, but you must channel them. I will teach you to focus.” She led him to the water’s edge and  Castiel fought his desire to follow. Missouri didn’t need him as a distraction. 

He went inside and called Ketch. It rang twice before he answered. “What?”

“Be angry at me if you must, but I will not tolerate insubordination, Ketch.” Using the man’s last name instead of his first sent a message.

“What did you need,” Ketch asked, his tone more civil.

“I am going to rest in my chamber, and I am trusting you to watch over... ”  He needed to refrain from saying Dean’s name. There was already animosity and he didn’t want to increase it. " O ur guests. The eldest Winchester is out with Missouri on the back lawn. The others are with Meg, so they should be safe.”

“I will have a few of the men patrol the perimeter. Are you expecting anything?” They’d discussed things in detail, and  Castiel was certain Alistair wouldn’t track Dean here for some time, but he wasn’t going to take chances.

“No. Not for a while yet, but I don’t want them alone.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Ketch said, his tone losing some of its hostility. 

“Thank you.” 

As he walked up the stairs,  Castiel thought of his lover. He thought of sinking into his heat , drinking his fill as he fucked him, and bringing him both to release. Did he miss it? Why had he felt the need to push Ketch away? 

Inside his bedroom, he slowly took off his clothing and folded it neatly on the bench at the end of his bed. Nude, he settled beneath the silk sheet and stared at the ceiling. With one call, he could have Ketch in his bed. He could feed off a living being and give the man intense pleasure. Growling, he rolled to his side and closed his eyes. In the room darkened by heavy drapes, he finally slept, only to dream of Dean Winchester.

He woke hours later and his increased senses told him dinner was being served. He dressed, but instead of going to the dining room, he exited through the front door. As always, the scents of the Sound, the forest, and the humans in his employ assailed his nose. He heard footsteps at the forest edge and the water lapping at the shore. Gathering himself, he strode to the building where Ketch had his office. He saw the red ember of a cigarette as he approached. “Those things are going to kill you.”

Mick laughed and ground out the butt in the coffee can at his feet. “Why aren’t you with your new friends?”

“I need to go into town.” 

Mick stared at him and then at the door leading to Ketch’s  office . “I can drive you.”

“Please.” Mick had a keen sense of understanding exactly what  Castiel needed... or in  some case s , didn’t need.

Together, they walked to the garage and Mick grabbed a set of keys off the rack. He got behind the wheel of the Mercedes SL Roadster and  Castiel smiled as he settled into the passenger seat. “I expected you to take the SUV.”

“You need flashy tonight.”  Castiel inclined his head. Mick was  correct . 

The two men were silent as Mick drove the expensive sportscar expertly along the curving road toward Seattle. “Any preference?”

“Crowded. Loud.”

With a nod, Mick turned the car toward  Madison Street. From the outside, Pony was nondescript and easy to overlook. Mick made sure to slow the car and let it be seen. The crowd milling outside noticed and eyed  Castiel curiously as he got out. He leaned down. “Thirty minutes.”

“Have fun.” 

The doorman looked  Castiel up and down.  Castiel stared back. “Enjoy yourself, Sir.”  Castiel nodded and entered the nightclub. Though early, the music was already loud and pulsing. He scanned the dance floor and then turned toward the bar. 

When the bartender noticed him, he gave  Castiel a warm smile. “What can I get for you, handsome?”

“ Stoli , on ice.” The beautiful blond man nodded and lifted the bottle out of the chiller.  Castiel tossed a twenty onto the bar and turned away. The bartender was working and wouldn’t do. His eyes lit on a dark corner and strode toward it, drink in hand. 

Several scantily clad men were standing around, most making out with their flavor of the night. One noticed  Castiel and came over to him. “Ah, aren’t you a pretty one? What’s your pleasure, Sweetheart?” The accent was Puerto Rican. His skin was  flawless and  Castiel could almost see his carotid artery pulsing.

Castiel shot back the vodka and licked his lips. “You.”

White teeth flashed a grin and he took  Castiel’s hand in his. “You have good taste.”  Castiel allowed himself to be led to a corner and went along when the man pushed him against the wall. “Would you like to suck my cock?”

Instead of answering,  Castiel rubbed his hand up and down the front of the man’s fly, feeling his hardening  shaft . “Look at me.” Dark eyes found his. “Relax. Let me have you.”

“Yes,” came the whispered reply.  Castiel nuzzled at the man’s neck and he lifted his head, bearing his throat. His fangs quickly pie r ced the skin. The man struggled for a second, but then relaxed. Glorious blood flooded his mouth and he drank. He licked the wounds, making sure they closed, before lifting his head and smiling. “You enjoyed the pleasure I gave you.” The cock under his palm softened and he moved his hand away.

“ So good,” the man whispered, still in a trance. 

Castiel straightened and licked his lips, making sure all traces of blood were gone. It had been a long time since he’d had a complete stranger. Ketch had satisfied his needs for a long time. He left the man leaning against the wall, a  blissed-out expression on his face. He would only remember an unknown man sucking him off.

Outside, in the chilly air, he stared up at the night sky. When had his life gotten so complicated. He’d been content in his arrangement with Ketch and he assumed he made the other man relatively happy. Now, his main focus was Dean. Protecting Dean Winchester, a man he found himself desiring. “No,” he muttered and stepped to the curb. Mick pulled up in front of him and he got into the car. “Let’s go home.”

Mick nodded and thankfully, didn’t expect conversation. When the car slid to a stop in the garage, Mick shut off the engine, but before Castiel could get out, he put a hand on his arm. “Ketch is angry, Castiel. Angry and jealous. Be careful.”

Castiel nodded. Why did sex have to b e so complicated ? He was still pondering the question when he entered the house through the garage door. The kitchen was dark and he guessed Meg was entertaining their guests. He couldn’t be around Dean. Not after feeding. His senses were heightened and Dean was perceptive. Missouri, even more so.

In his room again, he checked his watch. It was nearly lunch time at the Council’s fortress. He made the call. Madam Tran was brought to the line by a messenger. “Any news?”

“No. We are watching Alistair and the witch carefully. They are in London.”  Castiel was relieved. They were on another continent. That meant Dean was safe for the time being.

“Is Missouri there yet?”

“She arrived this morning.”

“And?”

“She has begun working with... Winchester.” Dean made it too personal... too close.

“Is he as powerful as the prophecy predicts?”

“I don’t know,”  Castiel admitted honestly. “The power is there, but I don’t know if he can use it in the battle.”

“He must,  Castiel . For all our sakes.”

“Yes, Madam Tran.”

“Keep me informed.”

“I will.” He hung up and paced. He felt as if he were a prisoner in his own home. Outside, he might run into Ketch, and inside, Dean was a distraction he could ill afford. The fresh blood heated his veins and made him restless. He went to his window and stared out at the darkened grounds. His enhanced eyesight took in the guards patrolling the perimeter, the shadow of Mick in his quarters, and Ketch, on his phone standing by the boathouse . The trio of dogs bounded across the yard toward him and the man bent to pet each of them. Decision made,  Castiel quietly escaped the house.

Ketch was on his way to the garage when  Castiel appeared before him. “Arthur.”

“ Castiel ,” Ketch said warily.

“You are still angry.”  Castiel didn’t bother phrasing it as a question.

Ketch’s bark of laughter held no mirth. “Angry? Why shouldn’t I be? I gave you two years of my life, and for what? To be thrown aside because you have a hardon for that witch?”

“Dean Winchester and I are nothing, Arthur. He is my charge, that is all.”

“Right. Don’t take me for a fool,  Castiel . I see how you look at him. I saw you today, by the boathouse.”

Knowing Ketch watched his interaction with Dean made his skin crawl. “Spying on me? That is beneath you.”

The fight seemed to go out of him and he shrugged. “I never thought... I... we had a good thing,  Castiel .”

“Arthur...”  Castiel knew he should say something to make the man feel better, but what? 

“I dreamed of you making me yours forever,” Ketch whispered and moved closer. “I would never leave your side.” Immortality? Ketch thought  Castiel would have turned him?

“No, never,”  Castiel said, shaking his head.

“Why? I love you. I’ve fed you... gave you strength. I deserve it.” 

Castiel shook his head harder. “No, Arthur, I would have never turned you. Don’t you see. I’m cursed. I will not doom anyone to this life.”

“Cursed?” Ketch was inches away now and  Castiel couldn’t back away because of the row of hedges behind him. “You’ve amassed a fortune. You travel the world. You never have to fear sickness or accidents , or even death . How is that a curse?”

“I’ve had to watch those I love die over and over again. Money? Travel? It means nothing.  _ Nothing _ .”

“It means nothing because you don’t have anyone to share it with you. I would be with you forever.” Ketch hands came up to clutch at his shirt. “He can never be yours,  Castiel , but I can.” He bared his throat at the same time his hand touched  Castiel’s skin. He reared back at the warmth he felt there . “You’ve fed.”

“Yes.”

“Your stored supplies?”  The question held an accusation.  Castiel should have lied. It would have made things easier, but lying wasn’t something he could do. He shook his head.

“Who? The witch?” He grabbed  Castiel’s arms and shook him. “The Council will put you to death.”

“I told you there isn’t anything between Dean and I.”

“Then who?”

“Ketch, remove your hands,”  Castiel said, his voice cold and low.

“Who?” He pushed and  Castiel snarled, his fangs dropping in his anger. His hands rose and gripped both of Ketch’s wrists. Another ounce of pressure and he could snap them like twigs. 

“You and I are done. What I do and who I feed from are none. Of.  Your . Business. ”  Castiel spat the words out. “ I came down here to try to be civil and repair our friendship. I can see that is impossible. It would be best if you packed your things. I will have Meg draw up your severance package. I will be generous.” Castiel released the man’s wrists and turned on his heel. Damn it, he should have known better. Humans were so dramatic.

“You will regret this,  Castiel .” He didn’t turn around. When he stomped into the house, all eyes turned to him. Meg lifted an eyebrow in question.

“I’ve let Ketch go. Please make sure he gets three month’s severance and a letter of recommendation.”

“I will,” she said softly and wheeled her chair out into the hall. Despite the hour, he knew she’d do it tonight. He avoided Dean’s eyes. 

“I’m terribly sorry for interrupting your evening. I shall see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk upstairs with you,” Missouri said and stood up. Without being rude, he had no choice. She waited until they were at the first landing to speak. “Will he cause trouble?”

“No. He is playing the part of a jilted lover, but it won’t take him long to replace me.”

She stared at him, but didn’t respond. He saw her to her door and said goodnight. He should have stayed in his room. Or better yet, he should have allowed the beautiful Puerto Rican man to take him home. 

He stripped off his clothes and got into bed, determined to read to take his mind off Ketch, Dean, and life in general.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Dean wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was disappointed when Castiel – yeah, their truce made him cut out the Novak shit – didn't show up for dinner. The food was delicious though and Missouri talked to them about spells and shared some stories about his mom. It wasn’t until later, when they were in the den and Missouri was showing him her own grimoire, that Castiel stalked into the room. There was no mistaking the anger, but underneath it, Dean saw something else... hurt? Disappointment?

“I’ve let Ketch go. Please make sure he gets three month’s severance and a letter of recommendation ,” he said, aiming his words at Meg. There it was, the reason he looked disappointed.  Castiel might not have loved Ketch, but it had to be tough to have to fire the dude. 

He apologized for interrupting them and left again. Missouri  trailing behind  him. Dean let Sam and Eileen pick a show to watch, but he wasn’t interested. “All this magic stuff has made me kind of tired,” he said, standing up and mimicking a yawn. They must have bought it because they snuggled up on the couch and told him goodnight.

In the hall outside his room, he hesitated. “Fuck. What the hell am I thinking?” He rolled his eyes and walked back to Castiel’s door. He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in,” came the muffled reply. Too late to turn back now, he thought, and twisted the knob.  Castiel was bare-chested, leaning against his headboard, a book in his hand. He seemed surprised to see Dean. Seeing the expanse of skin, Dean forgot how to speak. All he could do was stare.

“Did you need something?” There was a dark mole near his right nipple and Dean licked his lips. “Dean?” His eyes went to Castiel’s. He was sure he was blushing because his face felt hot.

“Yeah. So. Uh. You fired Ketch, huh?”  _ Way to sound intelligent, Winchester. _

Castiel closed the book and set it on his nightstand. A nightstand that held a lamp, a couple of books, and an empty wine glass. Next to a bed. A regular, everyday bed. “You sleep in a bed.”

An eyebrow arched and the vampire’s lips twitched. “Yes. The coffin is in the basement.”

“Get out... really?” Dean was intrigued.

“No, Dean. I don’t sleep in a coffin. Beds are much more comfortable.”

“Sorry, Hollywood again,” he muttered. 

“No harm done,”  Castiel replied. “I’m afraid I’m not prepared to entertain.” He looked down at his lap and Dean got it. Loud and clear.  Castiel slept naked.  _ Naked _ .

“Oh, shit. That’s okay. We can talk tomorrow.” He began to back out of the door, but  Castiel stopped him.

“Dean, it’s fine. Come in.” He made a motion with his hand and Dean closed the door. “Yes, in answer to your question, I did fire Ketch. I sought him out to see if we could salvage our friendship, or at least, our working relationship, but...” He paused and for some reason, Dean stepped closer to the bed. It was an imposing four-poster with a dark comforter. If he noticed,  Castiel didn’t let on. “but, he...” Again, he stopped.

“He what?” Dean wrapped a hand around one of the posts and leaned against it.

“He said he’d wanted me to turn him. It was upsetting.”

“Upsetting? Come on, Cas, be honest.  _ Upsetting  _ is lame.”

“Fine. I was pissed. I haven’t turned anyone in centuries. It is like giving someone a horrific disease that has no cure. You are sentenced to walk the earth for eternity watching those around you die. Watching those you love... die,” he said, his voice filled with passion and a deep sadness.

“Who was it?”  Castiel understood what Dean was asking and a look of grief crossed his face.

“His name was Balthazar. We met when he was thirty-one. For twenty years, we were friends and lovers.” Castiel looked down at his hands, as if looking for a wedding ring and Dean wondered if the vampire had married the man. “Then he started to age. At first, he pretended I was his younger inamorato, or as he liked to say, his kept boy. He would joke about it. But then... the stares and snide remarks got too much for him. Without my knowledge, he sold his home and moved, with no forwarding address.” 

“Did you ever find him?”

“He called me from a nursing home a few days before he died .” Dean closed his eyes. He couldn’t even imagine. “I made it there in time to say goodbye. Then I arranged for his burial and settled his estate. He left me everything he owned.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

He smiled, a sad, soft smile. “He was a good friend.”

“You loved him.”

“As much as I can love anyone, I suppose. I find that emotion is wasted on me.” Dean didn’t want to think about  Castiel’s lonely life. He didn’t  _ want  _ to like the vampire. He didn’t  _ want _ to risk a friendship.

“I should go,” Dean said, and turned to leave the room. “Dean,” his voice made Dean stop, but not turn around. “You can trust me. Please remember that.” Dean nodded and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it and took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t let himself get too close. 

The next day, a roll-back rumbled into the yard while Missouri and Dean were working on his powers. The dogs barked and he grinned as the truck came to a stop on the circular driveway. “There she is, my sweet baby girl.” Dean jogged over to the truck and stood, watching nervously, as the driver lowered her to the ground, the hydraulics whining as all four tires finally rested on the concrete. He wasn’t even paying attention to Meg signing forms and handing the driver a thick envelope.

 He opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “ Ain’t she beautiful?”

Missouri eyed the ‘67 Impala for a few seconds before answering. She laid a hand on the hood, fingers spread. “A lifetime of memories.” She smiles. “Legos and an army man.” Dean is shocked. How could she know? “You were  conc ei ved in this car, child.” That was something Dean didn’t need to know. He’d had a few escapades in the backseat, but to think... just  _ no _ .

Castiel and the guy that was the pilot came outside to see what was going on. “Ah, your car has arrived.”

“Yep,” Dean popped the ‘p’ and grinned. “I’m going to take her for a spin. Anyone  want to come along?”

Frowning,  Castiel stepped in front of the car. “Dean, you can’t leave the compound.” Dean’s face fell. Why did he bother to have her sent here if he wasn’t going to let Dean drive her? As if reading his mind,  Castiel said, “I sensed you would worry about the car, so she can be stored here until the time comes when you can return home.”

He wasn’t pouting. He was disappointed, that was all.

“She’s a beauty,” the pilot said. Dean recognized an Irish accent. “Maybe I can give her a go for you. Keep her engine running sweet.” He was looking at his baby like he wanted her. That wasn’t going to happen.

“No one is giving her ‘a go’ unless it’s me,” Dean snapped. To  Castiel , he asked, “Where are we going to put her?”

“Mick, will you move the Escalade out of the garage and put Dean’s car inside ? ” The Irishman gave Castiel a quick nod and strode toward the garage. 

“I’m driving her into the garage,” he grumbled. 

It took a few minutes to get the SUV out of the garage and parked on the side of the house, clearing a spot for the Impala. Dean carefully drove her inside and he whistled at the collection of cars. There were three bays, but they were deep, long enough to hold two full size vehicles. He walked around and gently touched them. There was a white Mercedes Roadster, a Testa Rossa that Dean swore was a ‘57, an Alfa Romeo Giulia in candy apple red, a ‘75 Mercedes 450SL, and Rolls Ghost. Dean was in heaven. Tucked in the back of the garage were two motorcycles, a late model Ducati and a Harley soft tail. He spun around. “You ride?”

Castiel , who had been standing near the front of the garage, nodded. “On occasion. I find they are easy to transport if I’m going to be staying somewhere for an extended time.” Dean couldn’t imagine  Castiel straddling one of the bikes... then again... His mind went south and he groaned. 

“Nice collection,” he stated and knew his baby would be in good company.

“ Castiel , telephone,” Meg called out and  Castiel walked away, leaving Dean to stare after him. The man was an enigma. A puzzle Dean felt the need to solve. Pocketing his keys, he stepped outside and watched as Mick lowered the bay door with a remote control. 

“Mick , huh? You taking Ketch’s place?” The man was ruggedly handsome, the type of guy Dean would hit on at a bar. He was dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a black t-shirt, his leather jacket giving him a bad boy look.

“I haven’t been offered the job yet. I think  Castiel likes me in the pilot’s seat more than guarding this place. But, I’m up for anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Dean muttered and the man roared with laughter.

“Not that. I prefer the  cailíns .” At Dean quizzical look, he grinned. “The girls.”

“Oh.”

“No need for jealousy, my friend.”

“Shit. No, I’m not. He’s a...” Dean zipped his lips before he said something stupid. Mick gave him a cocky grin and sauntered off, whistling some Irish ditty.  _ Asshole _ .

He went in search of his family and found them in the kitchen. It seemed to be the meeting place for everyone. Miss Hess was chopping vegetables like they personal offended her. Sam, Eileen, Meg, and Missouri were seated at the kitchen table. They looked up when he entered.  “ You get your baby all tucked in?” Sam asked, smirking.

“Shuddup, Sammy.” Missouri stared at both of them in amusement.

“Shall we go work some more, Dean?” He was tired of learning spells and practicing, but he was beginning to understand how important this was. He knew Missouri and  Castiel were holding something back, but he’d get answers in time. He knew it.

That night, after everyone was in bed, Dean left the house. He sat on the patio and one by one, the dogs came up to him. They made themselves comfortable at his feet and he stared out at the Sound. He couldn’t place the exact time when he began to find  Castiel attractive, but now that he did, he couldn’t get the man out of his mind. Only, he wasn’t a man, he was a vampire. A creature. A  _ monster. _ Dean tilted his head back and looked up at the stars. It was beautiful out here. Peaceful. 

“Couldn’t you sleep?”  Castiel’s voice didn’t startle him for some reason. 

Without taking his eyes off the stars, Dean answered, “No. I think it’s too quiet here. I’m used to traffic noises, and besides, this is the time I’m usually going to work.”

“True. A late-night disc jockey. Do you enjoy your job?”

“Sure. At least, it pays the bills.” Castiel settled on the chair next to his. “What about you? You like traveling around the world being the vampire world’s diplomat?”

Castiel tilted his head as he thought about Dean’s question. “I don’t know any other life. I’ve been on the Council for hundreds of years.” He shrugged. “It’s pays the bills.”

Dean laughed. “And then some, by the look of what you’ve got tucked away in your garage.”

“Material things don’t provide long-term happiness,”  Castiel said, his voice low and quiet. Dean thought he sounded almost wistful.  There was a slight breeze coming off the Sound and it ruffled  Castiel’s hair. Dean wondered if it was a soft as it looked.

“What would make you happy, Cas?” He realized he’d been using a shortened version of  Castiel’s name, but since the guy hadn’t corrected him, Dean guessed he was cool with it. 

“I’m afraid happiness isn’t in the cards for me.” 

Dean leaned up, his elbows on his knees. “Why not, man? You’re immortal, you have all the time in the world to find someone special... hey, can you even have kids?” It was only after he’d spoken the words aloud that he remembered Cas’ lover, Balthazar. “Shit... I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You are curious about me and I want you to understand...” He paused and looked away. “I cannot father children and even if I could, I don’t think I would want to set myself up for more pain in the end. I would outlive them. A parent should never have to bury their young.”

They sat in silence for a time. Dean found himself content to listen to the sounds of the night. The hoot of an owl, the water lapping against the shore, the distant thrum of a barge traveling down the Sound. “Can I ask you a question?”

Castiel nodded. “Of course, Dean.”

He rubbed the back of his neck before he blurted out. “Uh, how often do you have to ... uh... drink?”

“You are asking how often I need to feed?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Young vampires need sustenance often, usually daily. As we age, the need slows. I usually feed monthly, but with the threat looming, I need to be as strong as I possibly can, so I’m feeding daily.”

“And you fed off Ketch? Who are you... shit, sorry. None of my business.”

“I have frozen blood on hand. Fresh is better.”

“So, how does that work? Like... I mean... feeding off someone. Obviously, it doesn’t hurt them, since Ketch seemed... fit. Guess that was another thing that Hollywood got wrong, huh?”

“The history of vampires was dark and bloody, Dean. At the time of my re-birth, I was bloodthirsty and crazed. I took without caring if my victims lived or died. But as we became more civilized and the Council was formed, it became a crime to kill. I usually like my lovers to give freely.”

“Usually?” Dean wasn’t sure why he picked up on that word, when all the others were so horrifying.

Cas sighed heavily and then spoke, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “You are different than most humans, Dean. I cannot bend your will. With others, I can give them pleasure, take what I need, and they will never remember a thing. They only feel a second of pain and then I erase it from their minds.”

“Oh.”  Castiel hung his head at Dean’s reaction , staring down at his hands .

“I am a monster, Dean. You can trust me with your life, but I will always be... ugly... deadly.” Dean wasn’t sure what to say. He found himself wanting to argue. Cas wasn’t ugly. And for the first time, Dean hated the term monster. Cas was good. He was protecting Sam and Eileen. He knew in his heart that Cas would put Dean’s safety before his own.

The ringing of a cell phone brought Dean out of his thoughts. He watched Cas answer with a clipped, “Yes?” Cas listened intently to what the caller was saying, his expression blank. “I understand... Yes... I will take extra precautions... I will stay in touch... No, I don’t feel it is my place...” Dean picked up a raised voice and he saw Cas wince slightly. “Very well.” He moved his thumb over the screen and set it on the small table between them. His gaze went to Dean. “Alistair and his witch are in South Dakota.”

“Bobby?” Dean asked, standing.

“We don’t know anything yet,” Cas responded, his tone guarded. “Dean, I left guards with Bobby. They will do everything in their power to keep him safe.”

“Safe?” Dean shouted incredulously. “Safe from a fucking demon and a witch? Jesus, I should have forced his ass to come with us.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair, pacing the length of the flagstone patio. “I need to call him.” Shit, he’d left his phone charging in his room, it wasn’t like he was allowed to use it  since coming here.

“You cannot. It would put Alistair on your trail. Bobby knew the risks, Dean. He erased yours and Sam’s information from his phone and his house. Your Mister Singer is resourceful. You must have faith.”

“Faith, yeah, how does that work for anyone? Huh? These people killed my parents. My mom was the strongest witch in the world and they found a way to kill her, Cas.” He tugged at his hair. “Fuck this.” 

Cas’ hand on his arm stopped his restless pacing. “I will call my men.”

“Please,” Dean whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - Cas hunts and feeds from an animal. He doesn't kill it, but he does do what vampires do.

Castiel was enjoying his time with Dean. There was something about the witch, some pull that he couldn’t quite figure out. 

Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the shrill ring of  Castiel’s phone.

“ Castiel , it’s Madame Tran.” Instantly,  Castiel was on alert. The tone of her voice did not bode well.

“Yes?”

“The witch, Ruby, and several demons converged onto Mr. Singer’s property.  Most of your men are dead. Those that lived are in the hospital .”

“I understand.” He would grieve later and would make sure their families were compensated. He wanted to ask questions about Bobby Singer, but Madame Tran wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted.

“Mr. Singer locked himself in his basement. Thankfully, it was heavily warded. Can you send your plane to get him? He needs to be moved to a safe place. She is a strong one, Castiel.  The human will not be able to resist her.”

“Yes.”

“I know your home is secure, but I am worried.”

“ I will take extra precautions,” Castiel told her, already mentally going over his plans. He would send Mick, with Missouri to counter the witch’s spells. He hoped he would find Bobby alive.

“I know you will. The time is getting closer,” she said cryptically. He knew what she was talking about.  _ The prophecy.  _

“ I will stay in touch ,”  Castiel said . He was ready to hang up and get the plane in the air. 

“And  Castiel , Missouri has informed me that you have not told the eldest Winchester about the prophecy. It is time for him to know. Tell him.”

“ No, I don’t feel it is my place.” 

“ Castiel , you made a vow to his parents. He needs to hear it from you.”

“Very well.”  Madame Tran hung up without goodbyes as was her custom. Salutations were not her forte.

He met Dean’s concerned eyes.  “Alistair and his witch are in South Dakota.” Castiel knew Dean wouldn’t take the news well and he was right.

Dean stood abruptly, the chair scraping along the flagstones.  “Bobby?”

He hated lying to Dean. “We don’t know anything yet.” Dean’s hands formed into tight fists. “Dean, I left guards with Bobby. They will do everything in their power to keep him safe.” Castiel did his best to calm Dean down, but in the end, he promised to find out what he could.

He pleaded with Dean to go wake Sam, so he would have someone with him while he waited. Once he was sure Dean was with his brother, he knocked on Missouri’s door. He quickly explained the situation and she didn’t need to ask questions, just a firm nod and she was turning away to get ready.

When  Castiel was finally alone, he locked himself in his study and made his calls. Mick would be waiting for Missouri and they would fly to South Dakota. The hospital wouldn’t give him any information on his men, as expected, but  Castiel was resourceful. Within ten minutes, he knew that Alistair and the witch had left Singer’s home to regroup. He said a silent prayer to the God that had forsaken him centuries ago.

The night was tense. Dean and Sam were both worried about Singer. He understood, but he had no news to share. As dawn touched the sky, he got a call from Mick. Missouri had countered the sigils and opened the panic room. The man was alive, but had taken a blow to his spine and was unable to feel his legs. He gave Mick his instructions and raced upstairs. “Meg, I need you.”

She sat up in bed. “What is it?” Again, he relayed the events of the night and she picked up her laptop from the nightstand. “What do you need me to do?”

Castiel didn’t bother asking questions when a large truck pulled up to the gate. The guard let it pass and two men unloaded what looked like hospital equipment, including a bed. When a black limousine drove up an hour later, Meg came out to greet it. As  Castiel drew near, the door opened, and a cloaked figure got out. It was completely shrouded. “Gorgon,” Meg whispered. 

Dean and his family had been in the library most of the day, but picked this time to join them.  Castiel intercepted them while Meg greeted their guest. “Please, follow me to the study and I will explain everything.”

Sam and Eileen sat on the leather couch, but Dean refused, leaning against the fireplace, only his eyes giving away his fear. “As Dean told you, the demon and his witch found your Mr. Singer. He was found in his panic room in the basement. One of my men dragged him there and locked him inside.” He didn’t say that  the  same man gave his life protecting Singer. “Your godfather warded the room and neither the witch or the demon could get past the sigils. Missouri dismantled them and they will be landing in a few minutes.”

“Thank God,” Sam whispered, clutching his wife’s hand.

“You aren’t telling us something? Who was that outside?”  Castiel bowed his head and sighed.

“Mr. Singer was severely injured.” Before Dean could speak,  Castiel rushed ahead. “Meg arranged for a doctor to fly with them and we have a room set up where he will have the best of care.”

The fight seemed to leave Dean. “Thanks, Cas, you don’t...”

“No need to thank me, Dean,”  Castiel said, brushing off Dean’s gratitude. He was already in too deep with the man. “The figure outside, that is a Gorgon. They have healing powers.”

“Gorgon? You mean like  Medusa?” Sam’s voice went up several octaves. 

“Exactly like Medusa. She will remain cloaked so no one will gaze upon her.” Gazing upon the being would turn a person to stone.  Castiel knew Meg would make sure every precaution was taken. 

“And what does this mean for us?” Dean asked, straightening. “With Bobby coming here... will they be able to track us?”

“Yes.” Eileen sagged against Sam and buried her face in his shirt. 

“Then why did you bring him here? Why didn’t you take Bobby someplace safer? And them too?” He pointed at his brother and sister-in-law.  “ They are trying to find me, Cas. Me.”

“Sam, Eileen, could you leave us, please ? ” Castiel waited until they were gone and the door was shut behind them. He pulled the piece of parchment from his jacket pocket. 

“It is  time you knew of the prophecy.”  Castiel sat and motioned for Dean to join him. He unfolded the paper and stared at his own handwriting. He’d copied it several years ago and until today, it had been locked in his safe. He began to read.

_ “ _ _ And it shall come to pass, the demon, Azazel, shall bring forth the deity, Baphomet. The demon shall use the blood of the Righteous One to raise Baphomet from the underworld. The Righteous One, the firstborn son of a witch, the seventh daughter thrice told, shall defeat Baphomet in a battle near the ancient stones. Good shall overcome evil, closing the gates of hell forever. _ _ ” _

Dean listened intently and when  Castiel was done, he narrowed his eyes. “Who is Azazel? I thought the demon’s name was Alistair. And a battle, Cas? Does this mean I’m supposed to fight this Baphomet? What is he? Another  d emon?”

“Azazel is the most powerful of demons. He sits on the throne at Lucifer’s feet. Alistair is just his minion and at the right time, when everything is in place, he will call Azazel to walk among us. With your blood, he will call forth Baphomet... a deity... and yes, you will be forced to fight. Nothing can be changed. We were just trying to buy time for you to gain your strength.”

Dean stared at his hands.  Castiel waited as the seconds ticked by. He knew it was a lot to take in and wished he could share Dean’s burden.

“And if I lose?” Dean whispered.

“The world will end as we know it.”

His bitter laughter made  Castiel stare at him quizzically. “No pressure, huh?” 

“Dean...”

“No, Cas. I get it. My fate was sealed when I was born, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” 

A loud knock interrupted them and Sam called out. “Bobby’s here.”

They went outside to find an ambulance, doors opened. Missouri stepped down with the help of Mick. Two uniformed attendants lowered a stretcher to the ground. Dean and Sam rushed forward, pushing them aside. “I’m fine, ya idjits. Just tell everyone to stop fawning all over me. Jeez.” Castiel bit back a smile. Mr. Singer would be okay, he was sure of it.

He made himself scarce the rest of the day, though he was aware of what was going on in the house. Meg was handling things and keeping him informed. The Gorgon wasn’t well received by Mr. Singer, but apparently between Meg and Dean, they managed to convince him. As night fell again, he met with Mick and a few of his senior security personnel and everyone was now on high alert. Madame Tran had sent word around the globe and  Castiel knew it was only a matter of time.

As he fed off the bagged blood in the privacy of his room, he heard the tentative knock  that a  human might not have even noticed. Tilting his head, he stared at his door. “Come in.” Nothing happened. He put the blood packets in the mini-fridge and walked softly across the thick carpet. He stood, listening. Breathing... then footsteps walking away. He yanked it open.

Dean spun around, startled.  Castiel smiled. “My hearing is  exceptional , Dean.”

“Yeah, I forgot that little vampire fact. Sorry to bother you.”

“You are never a bother, Dean. Was there something you needed?”

“No... uh... no,” The man’s pulse rate was increasing and a flush covered his skin.  Castiel opened his door wider. Dean stared at him a few seconds more and then seemed to make up his mind. He entered  Castiel’s bedroom, stopping in the middle of the room, looking unsure. 

Castiel’s senses overwhelmed him. The blood pumping through Dean’s veins was so loud... so alluring. He swallowed and it took all his inner strength to keep his fangs from dropping. Hunger gnawed at his insides. He caught the scent of arousal. Was it his own? No... it was Dean. His eyes widened.

“Dean,” he whispered. The other man turned to face him. His tongue came out to moisten his lips and  Castiel tracked the movement. “What...”

“Cas, I talked to my family about the prophecy. I made my peace, I guess.”  Castiel waited, knowing there was more. “If I die, I want you to promise me... promise me that you will take care of them for as long...”

“I promise,”  Castiel vowed.

Dean stepped closer and  Castiel wanted to retreat. He needed to get away from Dean. His body was betraying him. His fangs pushed through. Dean was mere inches from him now. His hand came up to rest on  Castiel’s still heart. “You... I need...” The feel of Dean’s mouth was exquisite. No words could describe it.  Castiel felt weak... was Dean’s power draining him? Or was it the man himself.

Hands pulled him closer and he allowed it, unable to resist. He moaned and deepened the kiss. The moment Dean’s tongue swept over his fangs,  Castiel growled and pushed him back, but it was too late. A drop... a single drop lit him up from the inside. “No... we... you can’t.” He put distance between them. 

“Cas, you can feed on me. I know you need it. You’ve been good to us...”

Anger flared and  Castiel reared back. “What is this? Do you pity me? Or is this some act of obligation? A debt you feel you owe?”

“Yes... No... it’s something... shit...” Hands raked through his hair. “Jesus, Cas. You’re making me crazy. I can’t explain.”

“You should go. Now,” he spat out. Dean hesitated an instant, but then turned and left the room.  Castiel snarled and swept the things off his dresser. Picture frames, bottles of cologne, and an ancient Greek statue crashed to the floor. The carpet prevented anything from breaking and that incensed him further. He stormed to the window and threw it open. With another cry of anger and pain, he jumped to the ground. He raced to the woods, crashing through the undergrowth, running until he was miles away from Dean. He stopped and looked around. He sniffed the wind. He’d gone further than he thought. He was near the volcano. Mount Rainier. He picked up the scent of ash, and stronger, the thick aroma of musk from a male Elk. His nostrils flared and he moved toward the animal. It had been a long time since he hunted. 

The stag lifted his head and met  Castiel’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and he lunged, his strength driving the beast to his knees and then down to his side. He found the jugular and pierced the flesh. Hot blood filled his mouth and he drank. He took what he needed and sat back on his heels. The elk’s eyes stared blankly at him and he lifted his eyes to the sky. When was the last time he’d lost control? 

With a soft touch, he petted the elk. He hadn’t taken enough to kill it, but it was weak. Left here, it would surely die. The animal was huge, but  Castiel had just fed. He dragged it to the nearest road and took out his phone. “Yes, I was driving down Stevens Canyon Road and there is a large animal on the side of the road. I think it is hurt. Please send someone to help it,” he said, his voice that of a concerned middle-aged man. He gave the operator directions and then with a silent farewell, he started for home.

The house was dark and quiet and he let himself in the back door. He saw Missouri standing in the dim light given off by clock on the stove. He was conscious of the blood on his clothes . “I expected everyone to be asleep. You and Dean have much to do tomorrow.”

“Something in the house woke me,” she said softly. “A disturbance. When I looked at my scrying mirror, I...” she stopped and smiled. “ Castiel , do you believe in destiny?”

“Destiny... fate... no, it is something made up by those who wish to believe their futures are set in stone. Dean is not fated to die. He may live,” he said vehemently.

“I wasn’t talking about the prophecy,  Castiel . I have seen Dean’s destiny.”  Castiel’s eyes sharpened and he moved toward her.

“Tell me. Tell me he lives.”

“I cannot. The Goddess will not show me the outcome of the battle. But I’ve seen how his li f e is linked to yours.”

“He is my charge. I vowed to protect him.” The connection he felt was nothing more than that. He would not let it be anything else. The kiss was seared into his mind, but that was all he would be allowed. That one kiss to last for an eternity.

“No, it is more than that, Castiel. You are meant to be by his side. You will fight with him. You will walk with him to the end of your days.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Even if Dean survives the battle, he will die of old age. I will not watch that. I cannot watch that.”

She reached out and took his hand. “His magic is strong,  Castiel .  There must be a way... ” He was shaking his head before she even finished the sentence. It wasn’t possible. He’d been to sorcerers, witches, and holy men. There was no cure. 

“No,” he snarled and broke away from her hold. “Do not...” He kept shaking his head . She was trying to make him see a fairy tale future and he would not go down that path again. She gave him a look of pity and he turned away from it. Wishing for something... someone... you could never have was futile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early tomorrow morning, I'm leaving for Dripping Springs, Texas. It is a long drive, but it is my yearly retreat to write and take care of myself. It will be just me and my dog. I hope to work on my DCBB (my first ever).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile. Between vacation and work, it was hard to get into the grove. The week I spent in Dripping Springs recharged by batteries. I got to see Jensen in his natural habitat and got a selfie with him. Made my millennium. Saw an old friend and met many new ones. The job search is going good. I had an awesome interview, now we wait for them to find me a home in their company.

It seemed as if the entire compound was busy. Too busy to pay attention to Dean, Sam, and Eileen, who were sequestered in Cas’ library. Sam and Eileen spent the time reading or quietly talking, while Dean paced or stood at the window watching. Watching what, he had no idea. Cas didn’t share anything and it was beginning to piss him off. He’d told them about the Gorgon and all Dean could picture was the creature with snakes all over her head. He trusted Cas, but knowing that  _ thing _ was with Bobby scared him.

They’d only gotten a few minutes with Bobby before he was whisked off to a room with Meg.  _ Meg _ . She’d been a Godsend. The woman had kept them updated as much as she could, but she’d been busy setting up Bobby’s room with hospital equipment and he couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of money Cas was spending on keeping him and his family safe. It was a debt he would never be able to repay. But he still didn’t have to like it.

He finally left his brother and Eileen to go to his room. It wasn’t late, but the library was beginning to feel like a gilded cage.  Bobby was settled in his room and being cared for, and he hadn’t seen Cas since their conversation about that damned prophecy. Throughout their talk, he’d felt something. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that Cas would be with him until the end. He  also knew he  was going to lose. How could he beat a god?

Dean wasn’t sure what brought him to stand outside Cas’ door. Lust? Sure, the vampire oozed sex appeal. But it was more. A connection that he couldn’t explain. He stood poised to knock. What did he have to offer Cas? He was most likely going to die, and by all accounts, take the world down with him. The knock was quiet and he heard Cas’ invitation. A moment of panic had his breath quickening and he turned to go.

The door opened and Dean spun around. Cas loomed in the doorway, his face in shadows, but Dean could see the white of his teeth as he smiled. “My hearing is exceptional, Dean.”

“Yeah, I forgot that little vampire fact. Sorry to bother you.” He wanted to retreat , but his feet felt like they were filled with lead . 

“You are never a bother, Dean. Was there something you needed?”

Yes, Dean thought. _ I need you. I need to forget the prophecy. I want you.  _ “No... uh... no . ”

Cas stared at him, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then he pushed the door wider and stepped back. Dean walked past him and stopped in the center of the room. It was masculine, dark wood, but still had warmth. A bookcase held gently loved books and a few photographs. Mostly of Meg at different ages. He looked at the bed and closed his eyes for a second, picturing the two of them. He would let Cas feed. He would let Cas take him.

“Dean,” Cas whispered his name like a benediction and Dean was lost to the pull of desire. He faced him and licked his lips nervously.

Cas’ eyes darkened. “What...” 

“Cas, I talked to my family about the prophecy. I made my peace, I guess.”  Dean paused, collecting his words . “If I die, I want you to promise me... promise me that you will take care of them for as long...”

“I promise .” The words were said before Dean could finish. It was all he needed. His cock was achingly hard, pressed against the zipper of his jeans. He took a step forward and watched in fascination as Cas’ fangs pushed through his gums. What would it feel like? He raised his hand and pressed it to Cas’ chest. 

“You... I need...” And he lowered his mouth to Cas’. A coppery taste filled his mouth, but instead of repulsing him,  it drove him to deepen the kiss. He wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him closer, their chests touching, hips flush. The pressure in his balls brought out a moan and then the sharp prick of pain on his tongue made him gasp softly. He felt weak and clung to Cas.

The growl pulled him out of the lust filled haze and he was pushed away.  “No... we... you can’t.”  Cas stepped back, his hands up. Was that fear on his face? Why would he be afraid of Dean? 

Dean shook his head to clear it and tried to close the distance again.   “Cas, you can feed on me. I know you need it. You’ve been good to us...”

Dean winced as Cas’ features turned angry and he turned his head, but not before Dean saw the emptiness in his eyes.  “What is this? Do you pity me? Or is this some act of obligation? A debt you feel you owe?”

The words were like physical blows. Dean shook his head back and forth. “ Yes... No... it’s something... shit...” H is hand come up and tugged at his hair. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. This wasn’t about a Goddamn obligation . “Jesus, Cas. You’re making me crazy. I can’t explain.”

“You should go. Now . ”  His tone was icy and Dean shivered. No words would come. A sense of loss made his stomach fill hollow. With one final look, Dean left the room. The click as the door shut was loud in the hallway. “Fuck,” Dean murmured. “Fuck,” he repeated and shut his own door, leaning against it, trying to figure out how it went so wrong.

The next day,  after a sleepless night,  Dean didn’t see Cas at all. He spent time with Bobby and they were all told by the doctor that his spinal cord had been so badly damaged that he’d have to be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Dean stared intently at the Gorgon who stood like a specter in the corner of the room, black cloth draped from head to toe. “Why can’t it heal him?” Dean asked Meg in an angry whisper. “I thought that’s why you sent for it?”

“Gorgons can heal, but can’t fix that kind of damage, Dean. It has healed the internal damage and eased his pain . Try to be thankful,” she hissed, making him feel like an ungrateful shit. 

Missouri came to find him after lunch. “Dean, we must practice.”

“Why? Why does it fucking matter? I’m going up against a god and a fucking demon. I can’t win. So, why the fuck should I _ practice _ ?” 

She drew herself up to her full height and all the doors slammed simultaneously. The air crackled with static electricity and Dean stepped away from her. “Do not try my patience, boy. You  _ will _ learn. You  _ will _ practice. And you  _ will  _ walk into that battle with your head held high.”

“I can’t win,” he repeated in a defeated whisper.

“You can, with Cas by your side.” 

He looked at her and shook his head. “He...”

She held up here hand and stopped his words. “He will be by your side, Dean. Give him time. Show him yourself.”

“Show him myself? What does that even mean?” 

“He is meant to walk by your side, as a friend... and a lover. He will fight it with everything he has because he knows he will watch you age and die. He is unwilling to do that again.” _ Lover? _ Did Missouri know something he didn’t?

“I can’t force someone to...” Dean stopped before he uttered the word love. He didn’t love Cas. He barely knew him and he wasn’t even human. Sure, he felt lust toward him, because, fuck, he was  freakin ’ hot, but love... no, that wasn’t in the cards.

“Come, let’s practice,” she said, dismissing any further talk about Cas. For the next several hours, he worked. She taught him how to cast and to use his emotions in a better manner. After a short break to eat dinner, she pulled him outside and down to the water’s edge. She held both of his hands in hers and stared into his eyes. “Think back to that day. The day your parents died. Call upon the pain, the anger. ” He closed his eyes and could almost feel the flames. He remembered Cas’ steadying gaze. “Now, call out to the elements, Dean.”

The wind began to whip around them. “Yes,” Missouri called out over the noise. “More.” Lightning lit the sky over the Sound. The waves grew taller and crashed against the rocky shor e . “More, Dean,” she yelled and he felt the blood rushing in his veins, the magic singing over his skin. Thunder boomed and the ground shook under his feet. His eyes widened, but Missouri looked almost serene. A small smile graced her lips. “Yes.” Rain spattered on the ground around them, but they remained dry. “Now, direct it,” she shouted, releasing one of his hands and pointing to a tall fir several yards away. He lifted his hand and lightning came from the sky, splitting the trunk with mighty screech. The smell of burnt wood filled his nose. “Good.” The praise was given with a squeeze of her hand. Dean glanced over her shoulder and saw Cas’ silhouette in an upstairs window. He lifted his chin in challenge. He wasn’t going to let Cas avoid him anymore.

“Go to him,” Missouri whispered. Dean realized suddenly that the storm had passed. The night was still. 

“He doesn’t... “

“Don’t be foolish,” she snapped. “Go. Settle what is between you.”

Dean nodded briskly and made for the  house, his eyes trained on Cas’ figure until he was inside. He ran up the stairs, his breath coming  harshly . He didn’t knock. Cas was still at the window and didn’t turn. Dean closed the door softly. “You’ve become strong.”

“Missouri has taught me well,” he replied. 

“Alistair is in Seattle.” Dean’s heart seemed to stop. He needed more time.

“Cas...”

“Destiny. ” Cas spoke, his hands flat against the window. “Every man has his own  destiny, the only imperative is to follow it... to accept it...” He turned then. “No matter where it leads him.”

“Who said that?” Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Henry Miller. I met him once. In Paris.” Dean didn’t know who it was, but now wasn’t the time for a history lesson. 

“ About last night...  I’m grateful, but that’s not why I...”

“Dean, we cannot. It is forbidden. The Council would put a price on both our heads.”

“I’ve already got a price on mine, Cas,” Dean said softly and took a step forward. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He heard Cas’ s harp intake of breath. Without looking at the vampire, Dean toed off his boots, undid the snap on his jeans, and stepped out of them. He crooked a finger into his socks and removed them. Only then did he meet the other man’s eyes. They were dark, the blue barely distinguishable. “Guess you need to decide if I’m worth it, Cas.” 

Cas stood, still as a statue. Dean, his magic still thrumming through his veins,  giving him courage. He  stepped closer until he was inches away. He reached up and began to unbutton Cas’ shirt.  When h e got to the last one , Cas’ hands shot up and clasped around his wrists. “Stop.” He inhaled as if taking in Dean’s scent. “Please,” he whispered.

“Stop me,” Dean said, parting Cas’ shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. His skin was cool beneath Dean’s fingertips. “Stop me,” he said again, softer, as he skimmed his palm down  Cas’ chest and flat belly. 

“I... can’t,” Cas said, voice low and raspy. “God help me, I can’t.” 

Dean’s erection was heavy, but he ignored it. He unbuckled Cas’ belt and then Cas’ hands were covering his. Their eyes met and held. Dean’s mouth parted and Cas didn’t need another invitation. He kissed him, hard and fast. Dean forgot what he was doing... forgot to breath, but then Cas was there, guiding him and his slacks dropped to the floor. Dean moaned when he touched silk. Were they black, like he’d let himself imagine? Fingers ran through Dean’s hair reverently, then with more force, tugging Dean’s head back, baring his throat. His breath caught. Would he bite him? Feed off him? Dean didn’t care. His heart was pounding and his cock was full and pulsing. 

Lips caressed the exposed skin of his neck. “I can hear your heart beating,” Cas murmured against the sensitive place near his jaw. Dean let his hands roam up and down Cas’ strong back. He moaned when Cas’ tongue delved into his ear, swirling wetly, his warmth breath raising chill bumps over his body. With a growl, Cas lifted him and Dean wrapped his legs around the vampire’s hips, his hard cock resting against Dean’s balls. Cas walked them backward toward his bed and Dean found himself on his back taking in the other man’s beautiful body. Red silk, not black, barely contained Cas’ thick cock. A wet stain showed his arousal. Dean’s eyes took in the long, muscular thighs, the taut belly, and the strong chest. He swallowed when his exploration ended on Cas’ mouth. The fangs were prominent, resting on his lower lip. 

Without speaking, Dean lifted his hips and took off his briefs, tossing them to the floor. He reached for his cock, stroked it once... twice... and then cupped his balls. “You just going to stand there?”

Cas’ smile was feral and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband, skimming his boxers down those nice thighs. Dean’s focus quickly shifted to the vampire’s uncut cock.  _ Damn _ . Dean’s thighs parted as if on their own volition. It had been a long time since he’d been with a man. And never one as fucking beautiful as  Castiel Novak. 

Dean held his breath as Cas knelt on the bed and crawled up over him, his legs between Dean’s spread thighs. For a split second, Dean knew fear. Cas could kill him easily. He could snap his neck like a twig.  _ But he wouldn’t _ . The scruff from Cas’ jaw rasped against Dean’s cheek and their mouths met again. This kiss was no less heated than before. Dean lifted his legs and wrapped them around Cas’ waist, dragging him down, so that their cocks rubbed together. He hissed at the contact. Cas rolled his hips, grinding down onto Dean. Neither broke the kiss, but Dean couldn’t concentrate. He was letting Cas take the lead. He was along for the ride. He bit back a bark of laughter at his pun. Cas lifted his head, eyes black with lust, lips shiny with their spit, and those fangs... those damn fangs. He gripped a hunk of Cas’ hair in his fist and brought him back down. He licked over the tip of one and felt  another sharp prick, then the taste of his own blood. Cas made an inhuman noise and reached between them, grasping both their cocks in his fist. “Cas...” Dean panted, his mouth still on Cas’. “Take it...” 

“No,” Cas’ retort was quick. The man was pressing him into the mattress, rutting over him, as his hand stroked them faster and faster. It was dry and raw, almost painful, but Dean didn’t want it to stop. He pierced his tongue again, tasting more of his blood. Cas sucked his tongue, moaning into Dean’s mouth. He felt his orgasm building...  _ too soon _ . It was too soon.  _ He needed more _ . He needed to be fucked. He gasped and let his head drop to the pillow. Cas stared down at him, a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. His breath was ragged and he looked wild. 

“Fuck me,” Dean whispered, gaze focusing on the blood. Cas licked it away and Dean whined. Cas’ hand had stopped, but he looked down between them and used his thumb to rub their combined arousal around the heads of their cocks. “Damn it, Cas...”

“ Shhh ... I can’t...” he gasped and closed his eyes. “I can’t control...” His hand began to move again. Dean rode the brink of orgasm for a few more seconds and then he screamed Cas’ name as he spilled over his stomach. “Dean... so beautiful... so... ”  He grunted and Dean felt more hot cum mixing with his own. Cas arms were trembling slightly and he rested his forehead against Dean’s. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes had been closed as his body came down from the endorphin high, but they snapped open at Cas’ words. “What? Why?”

Instead of answering, Cas rolled away, landing on his back, one arm covering his eyes. Dean sat up and that’s when he saw it. The stripes of cum running down his skin with gravity were veined with streaks of blood.  He ran a finger through it.  “Cas... fuck... what’s wrong...”

“It’s nothing, Dean. A byproduct of being  cursed .” Cas’ eyes were on him now, arm above his head. “You should go back to your room.” Dean would have been pissed at the dismissal had it not been for the words uttered before Dean saw the blood. _ I’m sorry _ .

“So, that’s it. You get your rocks off and send me away?”

“As I recall, you got  _ your rocks  _ off as well.” He might as well have used air quotes. He rolled his legs off the bed and gave Dean a view of his back. Red nail marks healed before his eyes. 

“What did you mean about being sorry?”

“Dean... this was a mistake. You are a distraction... a temptation. We cannot give in again. The battle is near and you need to concentrate on your power.” He sounded tired, but Dean knew it wasn’t physical.

Dean stood up and gathered his clothing, dressing fast and not bothering with putting on his shoes. He could carry them. Stomping to the door,  he  opened it, let out a frustrated breath, and closed it again. “Destiny? You know what, Cas. You are full of shit.” He made sure he slammed the door that time.

In his room, he threw his boots because they were handy and he was pissed. Rejection wasn’t in his vocabulary and yeah, it hurt. He raged by tossing whatever he could reach around the room, but after a few minutes, the anger disappeared and he was left with his own feelings. Feelings for Cas. He didn’t know how or even, when it  happened .   

He found himself downstairs without remembering the journey. He unlocked the back door, breaking the sigil someone had marked with blood. The night was balmy, and the grass was soft under his bare feet. Without pausing to think, he lifted his hand and called the rain. This time, he allowed the soft drops to fall on him. He lifted his face. 

“I really expected it to be harder.” Dean whirled around and saw the witch, Ruby, standing between him and the house. Beside her, a man stood, a sneer on his angular face. Dean felt a moment of panic. Where were the guards, the sirens, Cas? He was alone. “Come, boy. Join us.” A flare of lightning shot from the woman’s fingers and it took Dean to his knees. “Again . I don’t want him to escape,” the man, Alistair, Dean guessed, said and the witch smiled and his world went dark.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon type violence in this chapter.

From his window, he’d watched Dean manipulate the  weather to his bidding. The raw power was impressive. Bending the elements took a strong witch indeed. He saw the exact moment Dean’s eyes found his and resigned himself. Dean would come to him again and this time, he would be helpless to resist.  Castiel had avoided him all day . H is strong senses knowing Dean’s whereabouts from his scent alone , and heading in the other direction . 

Dean _had_ come to Castiel’s room, like he knew he would. His power could be felt when he burst in without knocking. _The impudent shit,_ Castiel thought fondly. “You’ve become strong,” Castiel said, not ready to face him. This man... this witch... made him feel weak. 

“Missouri has taught me well.”

“Alistair is in Seattle. ” He hadn’t meant to lead with that, but Dean needed to know the latest intel he had. The minutes were counting down. 

“Cas...” _Damn him_. 

Cas flattened his palms against the windowpane. The smooth glass, so fragile, yet able to hold out the elements. He let it ground him. Missouri’s talk of fate had made him want. He recalled the quote by Henry Miller and recited it, turning to Dean as he finished. The rest if the evening was a blur. He’d tried to resist, God knows, he’d tried, but Dean was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’ve already got a price on mine, Cas,” Dean had said softly and  Castiel was lost. He’d undressed then, revealing an imperfect ly perfect human body, a body  Castiel needed more than the blood that kept him alive... more than life itself.

It wasn’t meant to happen. Dean had wanted to take it further, but  Castiel knew if their bodies bonded, it would surely kill him. It would be more than sex. It would make  Castiel feel things. It was forbidden. But Dean’s hands... his mouth... the Council be damned. He could not resist  Dean’s touch.

With Balthazar he’d felt love, but Dean was different... the feelings were stronger, all-consuming, burning him from the cold emptiness of his non-beating heart. 

He’d held back. Ketch was like him, using sex as an outlet. A means to an end. They had drawn blood, bit, scratched, and bruised. He couldn’t do that with Dean, so yes, he held back. He couldn’t control his fangs though, not with Dean’s pulse racing, his heart pounding, and  _ Christ _ , the small taste of his blood. The power singed through his veins. If one or two drops could do that, what would drinking from Dean do? 

Yes, Dean wanted  more. He’d even asked for it. “Fuck me,” he’d murmured, his eyes hot with need.  Castiel knew he’d lose control and cause harm. Dean must remain strong and healthy for the test that was to come. 

“I’m sorry,” he’d said, silently begging Dean to understand. 

When their rutting was over and both were spent, the guilt settled over  Castiel . Seeing the concern for  Castiel , because of his blood-streaked semen, in Dean’s expression made him cold inside, colder than his dead heart.  “You should go back to your room.”  He’d purposefully dismissed Dean. The man deserved someone who could walk by his side, maybe give him children. None of that was in Castiel’s future. 

 “Destiny? You know what, Cas. You are full of shit.”  Castiel winced as the door slammed. Yes, Dean was correct. He was full of shit because his vow to never love again was being sorely tested. He closed his eyes and relived the touch of Dean’s hands, the way he tasted, and the feeling of being wanted. 

Lethargy from sex and the stress of the last few days made  Castiel drift off, sleeping deeply for the first time since he’d gone to South Dakota to get Dean. His dreams swirled in vivid colors – Dean’s eyes, the way the sun glinted off the ginger highlights in his hair...

Banging and loud voices roused him. “What?” He sat up, disoriented from the realistic images. 

“ Castiel ...” Missouri’s voice, full of fear. He leapt from the bed and grabbed his robe before opening the door. The older witch, Meg, and Mick stood in the hall. Mick had blood covering half of his face. He knew Dean was gone, taken, by the looks on their faces.  The knowledge that they could not kill Dean until after the rite was the only thing keeping him calm.

“Can you fly?” He asked Mick, eyes taking in the extent of his injuries. T h ere was no need to ask what happened. They could talk about that later. For now, they must get to the ancient stones before Alistair. They needed to prepare.

“Aye,” Mick nodded and wiped at the blood, smearing it into his hairline. 

“Meg, you must stay with our  other  guests.” To Missouri, he said, “We must go.”

The next fifteen minutes were the longest of  Castiel’s life. Missouri gathered a few things in a valise while Mick pulled the SUV around to the front door. He drove them to the airport a t breakneck speed, a nd readied the plane while  Castiel and the witch paced, neither talking. 

Once airborne, Missouri spoke. “You must fight beside him, Castiel.”

“The prophecy says he will fight alone.” How could  Castiel let that happen? Dean needed him. He couldn’t let Dean die.

“The prophecy,” she shouted. “His fate is in your hands... our hands. I will share my strength, but you must share your bond.”

“There is no bond,” he insisted, not because he believed it, but because it was ingrained in him to bend to the Council’s ways.

“Don’t be a fool,  Castiel ,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger. “The Council’s laws are antiquated. W hen Alistair  dies , we will have the numbers to change things.”

“If,”  Castiel corrected her. “If he dies. If Dean can defeat  Baphomet. There  are no guarantees, Missouri. None.” He rose and paced the length of the cabin. Outside, the sun was rising in the east. They were flying toward it.  Toward a battle of apocalyptic proportions. Toward Dean. “Keep him safe,” he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in anymore.

While Missouri slept,  Castiel sat with Mick in the cockpit. He needed answers. “Tell me.”

The pilot had washed the blood from his face and took a moment to tape a bandage on his head wound, but his clothing was still stained with his blood. “She’s a powerful one, boss. The demon kept us back while she worked a spell over the water. I could hear the sirens screaming. I’m not sure how the  fae faired. Most of the men are dead,” he said, regret making his voice softer, his Irish brogue more pronounced. The she-devil had gotten past all the  wardings , the  fae , and had eliminated the sirens. Yes, she was strong, but Missouri and Dean had to be stronger.  _ They had to be _ .

“Where were you?”  Casiel knew his tone was  ac c usatory , but he couldn’t help it.

Mick took his eyes away from the controls. “I was taking care of Ketch.”

“Ketch?”  Castiel faced his friend with wide, shocked eyes.

“He helped them,  Castiel . He betrayed us.” No. How could he? Why would he?  Castiel pressed his hands to his face. Mick continued. “He came to the gate and asked for me. I thought... he said you’d called him and needed to feed. I was calling you to check when he hit me with a crowbar. I stayed on my feet and... we fought.” He looked out the window of the plane at the cloudless sky. “I killed him, Castiel.”

Castiel closed his eyes. Ketch had been his friend, his lover, for so long. The man had understood Castiel. “He betrayed us. It’s done.” Mick nodded and the two men didn’t speak for a long time afterward. Castiel returned to the cabin as they neared the eastern coast of Asia. They would land and refuel in Tokyo.

As they neared the city, he called Madame Tran. He filled her in and she promised to smooth the way at the airport and wished him well. “ Castiel , the prophecy is written. He must prevail.” She left her fears unspoken. If Dean failed, demons would take over the world. The humans would be the first to die. Baphomet would call for the slaughter of all. 

The stop took less than thirty minutes. They wouldn’t have to stop again until their reached Germany.

The airport in Frankfort , was busy, but Meg had worked her own magic and they taxied into a private hangar. A helicopter waited for them. The pilot, a Nachzehrer, waited patiently. The scent of death surrounded him, but  Castiel knew he could be trusted. He ordered Mick to stay with the plane. 

They headed north to the Teutoburg Forest . The ancient stones, The  Externstiene , would be where they took Dean for the final battle. The pilot set the helicopter down in an empty farmyard. “You walk,” the  Nachzehrer said, pointing west. Missouri took her valise and together, the y headed across the field. 

“How much time do we have?” 

“Madame Tran guesses they are about an hour behind us. They chartered a plane, but mine is faster. ” Once they  were on the ground, they w ould need transportation.  Alistair didn’t have the backing of the Council behind him. Things would take longer for him. “ Will you be able to keep us hidden from the witch?”

“Yes,” she stated simply. They walked in silence for a few minutes and then she spoke again. “The witch, Ruby... she was your assassin, Castiel.”

He looked at her sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Gordon Walker.” The name made his skin crawl. “She gave him the elixir that incapacitated you. At the time, she was a novice, but bound to Alistair. You were to die because you were too close to John and Mary. Alistair was afraid you would get in the way.”

“How do you know all this?” 

“Ruby has many faults, but her ego will be her downfall. After Mary’s death, she bragged to her coven that she’d taken down a powerful vampire.”

“She didn’t bother to check to see if I was dead,”  Castiel stated the obvious. “Foolish. Perhaps her ego  _ will  _ be her downfall.” 

The forest took on a sinister feel. Missouri shivered next to him. “I can feel their deaths.”

He knew she was talking about the Romans who were defeated in a bloody battle  eons ago. The stones came into view. Huge stones reached for the sky, the sandstone holding a long history. A tourist attraction in  the  modern  era , at this time of day, it was deserted, the park closed. He glanced at his watch. Ten. “Will they begin at midnight?”

“The witching hour,” she mumbled, staring up at the full moon. “We must find a place to hide.”

“What can we do to help Dean?”  Castiel asked as he settled behind a large vertical stone.

She faced him, her hands coming to rest on his. “You must trust me,  Castiel , and do as I say.” He nodded. “Ruby will be keeping him unconscious somehow. You must get to him and...” she paused and squeezed his hands. “Feed off of his blood ,  Castiel . Gain strength.”

“No,” he shook his head violently. “No, I will not take from Dean.”

“He has offered it to you, has he not?”

“I can’t allow it. There must be another way.” An owl hooted nearby and then  Castiel heard the flutter of wings as it took flight.

“You must share blood to form a true bond. His to yours. Yours to his.” At his expression, she hissed, “You must or Dean will fail.”

He withdrew his hands and folded them in his lap, unable to meet her eyes. He could not do it. They sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Her words haunting him, replaying in his head over and over. “ _ Dean will fail. Dean will fail. Dean will fail. _ ”

The sound of a vehicle in the distance brought  Castiel back to the present. “They’re coming.”

Moments later, an old truck rumbled to a stop. Doors slammed and soon, Alistair appeared, an unconscious man slung over his shoulders. Dean. His witch, Ruby, walked beside him, holding a basket. A light rain began to fall and  Castiel watched as they picked their way through the stones. 

There was a grotto carved into a stone and Alistair placed Dean there. Ruby stood over him and chanted something, but with her back to them,  Castiel could not make out the words. He looked at Missouri. “She is binding him. She will awaken him soon,” she whispered. 

Castiel felt helpless. He wanted to run to Dean, but Missouri held his arm. “You can’t take on both of them,  Castiel . W e must w ait.”

Ruby  took a white rock and began drawing a circle on the sandstone surrounding the makeshift altar. She placed candles at the five points, the whole time chanting in an ancient language.  Castiel saw that  Missouri’s eyes were closed ,  her face was upturned to the sky. Her lips moved slightly, but no sound came from her. 

Alistair was smiling maniacally and he withdrew an ornamental knife, its blade gleaming in the moonlight.  Castiel snarled as he sliced Dean’s forearm and Ruby laughed as she held a goblet under it to catch the flow. Missouri stood and walked out into the open. “Ruby, I challenge you. The Council has declared you a transgressor. You have broken Council law and I have been sent to vanquish you.”

Ruby’s smile was triumphant. “You? Old witch, you cannot vanquish me. My powers are strong and will grow stronger once our might y god grants me immortality.”

Missouri raised her hands and a bolt of electricity flew from her fingertips. It hit the wall of the circle and the crack was deafening.  Castiel made his move, he stayed in the shadows, scaling a high monolith and jumping down directly in front of Dean’s. Alistair was too intent on watching the witches to notice. He held the goblet of Dean’s blood in front of him  protectively.

Dean blinked up at him. “Cas,” he croaked.  Castiel held his finger to his lips and bent down. 

“Trust me.” Dean narrowed his eyes but nodded.  Castiel raised his arm and sank his fangs deeply into his own wrist. Blood spurted from the ulnar artery. He held it over Dean, blood staining his throat and shirt. “Drink,”  Castiel hissed. Dean shook his head, but  Castiel used his other hand to raise Dean’s head. “Please, Dean.” 

He drank , staring questioningly at  Castiel .  He felt the sucking pull as blood filled Dean’s mouth. He choked and  Castiel pulled away. He stared into Dean’s eyes. “Forgive me.” He reached out and took Dean’s hand in his, caressing his thumb over the knuckles before bringing it to his mouth. His fangs sank into Dean’s own wrist and  he  drank. The taste was like ambrosia. He felt lightheaded. As it entered his body, it began to burn. He felt his muscles contracting painfully and he gasped. Those single drops had not prepared him for the power... the intensity.

Castiel was suddenly thrown through the air, landing hard against one of the ancient monoliths. “He is mine,  Castiel . You cannot save him,” Alistair cried out. He turned the goblet and let Dean’s blood pour into the center of the circle. He began to recite the spell as old as time.  Castiel tried to rise, but his leg was broken, the bone jutting out. He focused on healing himself. 

The air around the stones crackled and sparks flew. Ruby and Missouri remained standing, incantations called out as the rain increased. Lightning flashed overhead and the moon became obscured by thunderous clouds.

Loud, dark laughter echoed off the sandstone walls and out of a cloud of red smoke appeared Azazel, his eyes glowing yellow. “Ah, a party for my arrival. How thoughtful.”

Alistair fell to his knees, the empty goblet still clutched in his hand. “Master, I brought  you life.”

The yellow-eyed demon ignored him. His focus on the two witches. “Enough,” he roared, sending both women flying toward the trees.  Castiel heard the crush of bones as they landed and it sickened him. The demon turned to Dean. He smiled and inhaled. “The blood of the most powerful witch... it shall be mine and my king’s.” 

Castiel stood, his leg had healed faster than ever before. He flexed his arms and he could almost feel Dean’s blood cells bonding with his own. 

“Rise, My King. Rise,” Azazel cried to the sky. The wind picked up and moaned through the stones, thunder rolled in the distance, but grew louder. Debris swirled around his feet and he laughed. “Rise, Baphomet. Rise and take your throne.”

The ground shook beneath  Castiel’s feet and he held onto a tree to keep his balance. A ring of fire appeared around Dean’s form and the  demon’s . The flames leapt higher and higher. “Dean,”  Castiel screamed over the howling wind. 

The bowels of the earth seemed to open and He appeared. The god Baphomet. The stench hit  Castiel first. The musky smell of a wild animal. The god’s head was that of a goat, but the horns spanned at least six feet. Pendulous breast hung from its chest and large black wings sprang from its back. It was clothed in a loincloth covering its lower body and its belly was rounded, like a woman in full pregnancy. Etched into its arms and stomach were ancient rune symbols. It  raised its  clawlike hands to the sky and  bellowed .

“Dean,”  Castiel whispered. How could he defeat this beast? 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I had a stopping place and I needed to take it. I will make it up in the next few chapters.

Dean woke, his brain fuzzy. Where was he? What happened? He tried to move, but something was holding him down. The surface under him was cold and unyielding. Pain stabbed through his arm and he opened his eyes. The man standing over him was a stranger, but Dean recognized the bitch beside him. It must be Alistair then. Great. The two were so focusing on draining his blood into a silver goblet, they didn’t notice he was awake. 

He had to gather himself. He shook his head a little to clear it and that’s when he heard voices. Missouri’s was clear, but distant. He strained against the bounds, but it was no use.  He couldn’t move his arms or legs . He looked around, but couldn’t see much. Tall rock formations surrounded him, but he could see the full moon above him. 

This was it. The final battle. It was his fight... his burden to bear. If he couldn’t even move, how was he supposed to win? Who was he kidding? He couldn’t do this. “Mom,” he mumbled and blinked away the t hreat of t ears. The wind began to moan through the stones. “Mom,” he repeated. “Tell me what to do.”

Suddenly,  _ he _ was there. “Cas,” his voice cracked. His mouth was dry and felt parched. How long had it been since he was taken? Hours? Days?  He didn’t want to remember their fight or the feeling of rejection. 

Castiel shushed him with a finger to his lips and bent to speak. “Trust me.” Dean stared up at him, but nodded. What was he planning? This was Dean’s fight, wasn’t it? 

He watched in horror as Cas brought his wrist to his mouth and bit into his own flesh. Blood spurted and flowed down his arm. He met Dean’s eyes briefly. “Drink,” he ordered, holding his arm over Dean’s face. The hot blood splashed onto his lips and chin. He sealed his mouth closed and shook his head. He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t. “Please, Dean.” 

Something in Cas eyes gave him away. This was their only chance then. He opened his mouth and Cas lowered his wrist to Dean’s lips. The coppery taste flooded over his tongue and down his throat. He wanted to hurl, but Cas’ gaze held him steady. Was it seconds or minutes? The rush didn’t slow and Dean finally choked and  Cas pulled his arm away.

“Forgive me,” Cas implored. For forcing him to drink his blood? Without releasing his eyes, Cas brought Dean’s arm to his mouth and sank his fangs deep. Dean gasped at the pain, but it disappeared as  quickly as it arrived... only a hazy sensation was left. He watched as Cas drank, eyes wide, want and need clouding his vision. 

Then Cas was yanked away, as if by an invisible source. Dean cried out and tried to sit up. The damn bonds held firm. Rage overtook him and he directed his power inward. One by one the invisible binding fell away.

Around him, the air seemed charged with electricity. A cloud of red smoke appeared and a man, but not human appeared.  “Ah, a party for my arrival. How thoughtful.”

Dean froze. Alistair dropped to his knees. “Master,  I brought  you life.”

The demon sneered , but his attention was drawn by something out of Dean’s range of vision. He roared, “Enough.” Dean watched as Missouri and Ruby flew several yards away, landing with a sickening thud. The he faced  Dean, his eyes glowing yellow. His smile was sinister and he sniffed. “The blood of the most powerful witch... it shall be mine and my king’s.” 

He spun away and turned his face to the night sky.  “Rise, My King. Rise .” The storm whipped around them and the demon laughed.  “Rise, Baphomet. Rise and take your throne.”

What felt like an earthquake shook the ground and a ring of fire surrounded Dean, Alistair’s kneeling form, and the demon, Azazel. He heard a faint voice screaming his name. “Dean.”

The final bonds broke and Dean sat up, scrambling to get off the altar. That’s when he saw the  _ thing _ . The spawn of hell itself. It lifted its hands heavenward and roared. Dean covered his ears. He watched as the beast took Alistair by his throat and lifted him. The claws quickly disemboweled him, his entrails spilling onto the ground. “No, please, I...” the rest of his words became a grotesque gurgle of blood.

“My king,” Azazel knelt before his god. The harsh breath of the beast was loud in the now silent stone forest. “Your gift,” he said, pointing toward Dean. The thing turned its mighty head and the hollow eyes seemed to bore into Dean’s very soul. This was his fate. Dean stood to meet it  head - on .

In his p eripheral vision, Dean saw Cas making his way to Missouri’s still body. He felt the rage again. Missouri was his friend. The putrid breath brought his attention back to the god. It looked down at Dean. It had to stand at least eight feet tall. A skeletal hand reached for him and Dean lifted his own in defense. Azazel laughed. “You think you can harm my king?”

Dean pulled all the knowledge Missouri had forced him to learn to the forefront of his mind. This was for his mother and his father. He needed to find the god’s weakest point, but first, he needed to get rid of Azazel. With a flick of his wrist, he called forth his focused anger. It looked like a film in slow-motion. The demon’s back arched and his legs bent backward at an unnatural angle. The scream was inhuman. His body seemed to implode on itself until the body fell to the ground, every bone appearing to have been broken into tiny pieces. The mouth was frozen, gaping wide in pain and fear.

The god looked down at  Azazel’s dead form and then back at Dean, then flared its wings causing wind to whip around them . The  demon’s  body rolled out of the ring of fire and onto the grass, where it lay smoldering. Baphomet spoke in a long-dead language, in a volume that had Dean wanting to recoil, but he stayed where he was, feet planted firmly. 

“I don’t know what you said, dude, but your breath could knock a buzzard off a shit-wagon,” Dean called up to it. It snarled and took a lumbering step toward Dean. Dean glanced at the ground to keep from tripping over his own feet and noted the flaming circle around them. He needed to get out of it. Had Azazel completed the ritual? Could Baphomet follow him?

He’d taken Cas’ blood. Did that transfer some of the vampire’s strength? He’d seen Cas move and jump. The god took another step, bringing him even closer. He had to chance it. He counted to three quickly and bent down, running right through the beast’s legs. He closed his eyes and jumped. He felt the heat from the flames lick at his bare feet, but he landed and rolled, springing up immediately  and spinning to face Baphomet.

The beast slowly turned and roared in anger when it saw Dean standing outside the circle. He flapped his wings, causing a nother gale-like bus r t, extinguishing the fire. Dean blanched when it stomped over the burnt line. “Dean, Missouri said we must behead him,” Cas said from his side. Dean felt a surge of power ignite in his veins. Was it because they mixed their blood? 

“With what?” Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the god, who was now watching them, his maw open and releasing fetid breath.

“I don’t know,” Cas mumbled softly. 

“Great. We don’t have a plan then?” The beast made a sound that Dean likened to a pissed off dinosaur. “Fuck,” he swore. 

Missouri appeared at his other side. Dean took her hand to hold her upright. She didn’t look good. Blood ran from a head wound. “Call on the elements, Dean. Call them.  Take Cas’ hand and d raw from  us .” 

He did as she said.  “ What now ?” 

“You have it in you, boy. Do it.” She squeezed his hand and he felt it. Another surge, this one even stronger. Where their palms touched, he felt heat. He looked over at Cas and the vampire nodded. 

“Hey, this is the dream team... we got this,”  Dean said with much more bravado than he  felt. He lifted  their joined hand s and called to them, one at a time. When he got to the fifth element, he thought of his mother. He whispered to her. “Please, mom.” 

The wind blew, the rain fell in sheets, and lightning lit the sky. The ground shook and the mighty stones trembled around the beast. It roared again and leapt forward. Cas  ripped his hand from Deans and ran toward the god.  Dean cried out his name. Cas met his eyes and a silent message was sent and understood. Dean nodded. He raised the hand holding Missouri’s. “Baphomet, I banish thee back to the depths of hell. Go, never to return.”

The beast snarled and a bolt of lightning hit the ground in front of it, causing a deep fissure in the earth. In the blinding light, Dean saw his mother’s form. She held out her hand. “Mom,” Dean felt tears prick his eyes and dashed them away. 

“She’s with you, Dean. Finish it... now,” Missouri shouted the last word and Dean saw Cas leap to the god’s back, his hands  grabbing onto the thing’s horns . Dean sent another bolt of lightning. It hit the beast in its massive belly, tearing into the symbol etched there. It screamed and reached back for Cas. No. Dean saw red and called forth another and another, the spikes of raw energy hitting Baphomet over and over. Cas grunted and twisted the great being ’ s head and Dean watched in morbid fascination as the head came off with a horrid tearing sound Dean knew he’d never forget . Black fluid spurted out , covering Cas as he held it aloft.

The fissure opened wider and a reddish glow lit the area. The beast began to topple. “Cas,” Dean screamed as the god tittered on the edge, Cas still astride his back. Dean’s heart seemed to stop as the great body tumbled forward. Then it was gone. “Cas,” he cried and released Missouri’s hand to rush forward. There on the rim of the gaping hole was Cas, covered in the black tar-like substance. He reached for him and pulled him up. He held him close. He smiled shakily. Cas was safe. “I thought... Cas, I thought...”

“ Shhhh ,” the vampire whispered in his ear. They held each other until the rain stopped and the wind was but a cool breeze. Before their eyes, the fissure sealed and no sigh of it remained. That’s when he heard a sob and spun. 

Ruby stood, her hands clutching at the air. “ Noooo ,” she sobbed, staring at the broken circle and the mangled bodies of the two demons. Her eyes finally rose to meet Dean’s. “You... you ruined everything.” She lifted her hands, but Missouri was quicker. The  younger  witch burst into flames, her screams sending chills up Dean’s spine. The burning body dropped to its knees and the fell face forward onto the ground. Soon only ash remained.

Missouri fell soon after. Dean and Cas rushed to her. They knelt on either side of her and Dean lifted her head in his arms. “Tell us what to do. Tell us,” Dean begged. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Destiny,” she whispered and held up her hands. Dean took one and Cas too the other. “I’ve lived for over two hundred years. It is my time.” She looked up at Dean. “You... you will take my place on the Council. Serve with honor. Your mama would be so proud.” Then she turned to Cas. “Take care of him. Live by his side.” For the first time since he’d met the brooding vampire, Dean saw a human emotion mar his beautiful face. Grief.

“My blood can help you, Missouri ,” he whispered to her, but sh e shook her head.

“No...” She gasped as a wave of pain hit her. Dean brushed her wet hair off her face. He saw traces of blood at the corner of her mouth and running from her eyes. He was helpless. She attempted another smile. “I’ve done what... what I set out... to do.” She moved Cas’ hand to Dean’s. “Destiny.” Her eyes closed for the last time and Dean gently leaned her against a stone. 

“We will take her body home,” Cas said stiffly and stood up. He walked away and Dean, needing his own time alone, didn’t follow. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some German dialect in this chapter. The translations are in the notes at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> This chapter isn't as long as some of the others, but I'm setting things up for a long chapter next. I should finish this story up in about four more chapters.

Castiel called both Meg and Mick, allowing them to make the arrangements. He was distraught after losing Missouri. Dean had been distant, but what did he expect? They’d ended things on a bad note the night before, then the man had to take on demons and a god. As he hung up the phone, he glanced over at him. Dean was sitting on a set of steps carved into one of the stones, his head in his hands. 

He was dialing Madame Tran’s number when a wave of dizziness hit him. He held onto one of the monoliths to keep from stumbling. He felt feverish and his head started to pound. What was happening?

“ Cas , you okay?” Dean was looking at him now, his features full of concern. 

“Yes... I’m fine.” He heard the ringing and then her voice.

“ Castiel .”

“It is done. Baphomet has been sent back to the netherworld.”

“He did it. Praise be, he did it.”

“Missouri... was killed.” There was silence on the line and he knew the head of the Council would grieve. “She was valiant.” Another wave of dizziness swept over him and he would have fallen had he not been already holding onto the stone wall. 

“And Alistair? Ruby?”

“Dead. All dead.”

“Even  Azazel ?” Her tone was clipped, but he could hear the relief in her voice.

“Yes. All dead,” he repeated. “Dean and I will return to the States with Missouri’s body.”

“She must be laid to rest in the proper way,  Castiel .”

“She will be,” he vowed. His hands began to shake and he stared down at them. “I must go, but I will call when the arrangements are made.”

“ Castiel , did she name her successor?”

“Yes. She named Dean.”

“He is a novice of the craft. Will he be able to do his duty?”

“He will,”  Castiel whispered. “I... I must go.” He slid to the ground and that’s when he felt it. His cold, lifeless heart beat once... twice... then it became as steady pounding. The phone fell from his hand and he could hear Tran’s voice calling his name. He stared at Missouri’s corpse. “What have you done?”

“ Cas ?” Dean rushed over and knelt beside him. “What’s wrong ? You look... ”  He stopped. “What’s going on?”

Castiel blinked up at him and shook his head. “Missouri... she... I don’t know how...”

“ Cas , you’re scaring me.”  Castiel laughed. The man had faced demons, a rogue witch, and a god from the pits of hell, but  _ now  _ he was scared. He took  Castiel’s hand in his and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Your skin... it’s warm.”

“Missouri did something...” 

“Missouri? What? What did she do?”

“I don’t know, Dean.”  Until he figured out what Missouri did, he couldn’t tell Dean. “It’s nothing. Just some residual power from our bond. It will go away on its own.”  Castiel stated with a shrug. Was this permanent? Without Missouri, he was merely guessing.

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but the sound of a vehicle made both of them freeze.  Castiel knew that the German police could not find them or the bodies. He stood up quickly and instantly regretted it. He leaned heavily on Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean. I fear I will not be much help.”

“Just take it easy, man. I got you.” He wrapped his arm around  Castiel and they moved to a better vantage point. The SUV was parked close and the door opened as they watched.

“Castiel Novak?” The voice called out in a thick German accent. “Miss Masters hat mich geschickt.”

“He says he was sent by Meg,”  Castiel translated. 

“And you believe him?” Dean was watching the man intently.

“I do.” Dean stepped from behind the tall stone, hauling  Castiel with him. 

The man nodded to both of them. “Wir mussen uns beeilen. Die Sonne geht bald auf.”As they watched, he opened his trunk and pulled out several large tarps. Dean and Castiel moved closer and he lifted a brow. “Werden Sie helfen Bitte?”

“He’s asking for help,”  Castiel informed Dean.

“Cas, you sit. I’ll  take care of it .” Castiel wanted to argue, but knew in his weakened state, he would only hinder them. He settled against a stone and Dean jogged to the SUV. He watched them roll up the bodies into tarps and lift them to the back of the vehicle. When they got to Missouri’s still form, Dean stopped and shook his head. “She’s not some random...” He looked over at  Castiel imploringly.

“Sie war unsere Freudin... und im Rat,” he said in flawless German. The man gave a curt nod and spread the tarp on the ground. With much more care, they moved her, then Dean covered her. They laid her in the backseat. Dean rushed back to help Castiel to the truck. Dean stopped abruptly and pointed at something. Castiel stared over at Missouri’s valise. “Get it, please.” 

Dean climbed in first, taking ahold of Missouri’s covered body and laying her head on his lap.  Castiel sat with the driver. He put the truck in gear and they drove toward the same farmhouse. The helicopter was waiting. The driver told  Castiel he would  _ clean up the mess they’d left,  _ then drove off in a cloud of dust after helping Dean move Missouri’s lifeless body to the chopper.

Their pilot didn’t bat an eye when they boarded with a corpse. He lifted off and neither  Castiel , nor Dean spoke.  Castiel spent the short flight staring out the window, fighting the rolls of nausea. 

When the chopper landed, Mick was there to help get Missouri to the plane and once they were on board, he quickly took off, leaving Germany behind. Dean finally spoke after they were above the clouds. “What now?”

Castiel turned to him. “Now, we must face the Council.”

“Face the Council? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound ominous. Madame Tran will be expecting us.”

“Oh, uh, so we aren’t going home... I mean... back to your place?”

“Eventually, but first we have to attend...”  Castiel’s sentence was cut short as a sharp pain in his  abdom e n made him double over.

“What’s going on with you?” Dean was suddenly there, on his knees in front of  Castiel , a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m not quite sure.” He didn’t feel the need to tell Dean that for the first time in over a thousand years, his heart was beating. Whatever was happening to him had a logical explanation. Perhaps it was ingesting Dean’s blood. If that was the case, it was temporary.  _ Maybe _ .

“Can I get you anything? You need to fed?” Dean winced when he said the words and  Castiel knew he was thinking about them sharing blood only hours before.

“I’m fine, Dean. You should rest. It’s been a long night and once we land, Madame Tran will need to be briefed on Baphomet’s death.”

Dean frowned, but stood and disappeared behind the door leading to the bedroom.  Castiel rose, swayed with dizziness, and then made his way to the cockpit. Mick looked up from the controls. “You are both alive. Does this mean Dean defeated the god?”

“He did.”  Castiel settled into the co-pilot's seat and put on the headphones. 

“And...” He knew Mick wanted the whole story, but he was mentally exhausted. 

“I will fill in all the blanks later. For now, I just need to think.” Mick nodded and turned his attention back to the sky. 

He must have dozed off, because the drop in altitude woke him. “We will be landing in thirty minutes. Meg arranged for your car and informed the Council that you would be arriving.”

Castiel sighed and nodded. “I should check on Dean.” Mick didn’t respond. 

He walked through the cabin and knocked softly on the door. Dean told him to come in and  Castiel took a deep breath before entering. Dean was lying on the bed, hands behind his head. His eyes met  Castiel’s . The tension from their sexual encounter still remained, and added to the events of the previous night didn’t make it easier. “We shall be landing soon.”

“Okay.”

“Dean, we need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t,” Dean said bitterly. “I did my part to save the world. Once this little meeting is over, I’m done.”

“Dean...”

He sprang up from the bed. “No,  Cas ... Just don’t, okay? You made things perfectly clear. Mary Winchester’s son saved the fucking world and now... and now, he wants to go home.”

“You’ve tasted your power. You are your mother’s legacy. Surely you don’t think you can step back into your old life again?” 

“That’s what is going to happen,  Cas .” 

“But Missouri...” 

“Stop. Missouri is dead. I can’t...” He ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace the confines of the small cabin. “I never wanted this life,” he said softly. “I just want to play music and... and forget.”

Castiel knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The Council would expect things from Dean. He was the most powerful living witch. There would be expectations. Dean didn’t want to hear it from him though.  Castiel hadn’t handled their night together very well. “You should get ready to land.” 

He shut the door behind him and leaned on it. When he was close to Dean, he felt the pull... the electricity between them. He wondered if Dean felt it too.

Once they landed, things moved quickly. Missouri’s body was loaded into a van and  Castiel’s driver hustled them inside a black sedan. The drive to the Council’s palace wouldn’t take long. Dean sat silently beside him. Mick had made sure Dean was dressed for the Siberian weather. Since temperatures didn’t usually affect  Castiel , he walked across the tarmac with only a  trenchcoat . Inside the car, his teeth began to chatter and he felt the cold down to his bones. Dean was staring out the window at the snow landscape and didn’t notice  Castiel’s obvious discomfort.

The palace rose from the surrounding forest as if by magic, though  Castiel knew it was just an illusion. Dean’s mouth dropped open at the sight. “It just appeared out of nowhere,” he said, forgetting he had been giving  Castiel the silent treatment.

“An illusion put together by the Council,”  Castiel told him softly as the vehicles came to a stop in front of the stone staircase. The guards ran forward and whisked Missouri’s body away. Dean sat still. “We should go. Madame Tran doesn’t like to be kept waiting. ”

A guardsman opened the door and the blast of frigid air made  Castiel gasp. Dean stepped out and  Castiel followed more slowly. His limbs didn’t seem to want to obey. The heels of their boots clicked over the marble floor once the heavy doors shut behind him. 

“ Castiel ,” a familiar voice called out and Billie swept into the rotunda. The beautiful African woman had been the daughter of a chieftain until she was bitten and turned several hundred years ago. She was a captain of the Council guard, a strong warrior, and one of  Castiel’s lovers. She purred as she wrapped her arms around him. “You come back victorious. The Madame is pleased. I will show my pleasure later,” she said, giving a throaty laugh. She sealed her lips over his and then she reared back, her face a mask of disbelief , her fangs dropping down . “What is this? Your heart? I felt it beating.”  Castiel refused to look at Dean.

“Will I have time to show Dean his chambers before we meet with Madame Tran?” He said stiffly, ignoring her questions.

“She is waiting,” Billie hissed, her displeasure showing in her features.

“Hey, if you two want to bang one out, I can wait,” Dean said, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

“Dean,”  Castiel snapped. 

“Guess  Cas here gets around, Sweetheart. Been waiting long?” Dean stepped closer to Billie. “You aren’t the jealous type, are you? Cause, I  gotta tell you, his last lover...”

“That’s enough,”  Castiel roared. Billie narrowed her eyes and looked back and forth between them. Dean crossed his arms, an unattractive smirk on his face. 

“Ah, come on,  Cas . Surely, we have time for a reunion. She looks like she wants to eat you alive. I can just go grab a beer... or maybe some vodka since we’re in Russia.”

“ Castiel , will you introduce me to this witch,” Billie said, her voice cold.  Castiel wanted to walk out the door, and have Mick take him home. Dean was acting juvenile. And Billie, well, Billie didn’t have a sense of humor and was possessive of his time when he was here .

“Billie, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Princess Adeyemi, Captain of the Council Guard.” The two eyed each other like enemies. Dean was acting like a jealous... Castiel stopped and stared at Dean. Was he... _jealous?_ He’d acted concerned for Castiel’s health, but now... was he remembering the way they parted before he was taken? It was all too confusing and it made his head hurt.

Billie bowed reluctantly. “I must welcome you to the Council Palace,” she said, her tone brittle. 

“Thanks, Darling. Guess we shouldn’t keep  _ Miss  _ Tran waiting. You and  Cas will have to get reacquainted later. He likes to bite, but I guess you do too.” His smile was cocky and  Castiel wanted to slap it off his face... or kiss it off. He groaned and huffed out a breath.

“This way,” Billie bit out and turned on her heel. 

Dean started to follow, but  Castiel grabbed his arm. “You are playing a dangerous game, Dean.”

“Hey, far be it from me to stand in the way of tapping that,” he nodded toward Billie’s retreating back. “Bet she gives as good as she gets. Don’t worry, I’ll find something else to do while you  _ catch up _ .”

Billie had thrown open the door to the inner chamber and was staring coldly at them. “We will discuss this later,”  Castiel whispered and dragged Dean forward. He snatched his arm away and strode toward her , whistling  _ Travelling Man _ , an oldie by Ricky Nelson .  Castiel had no choice but to follow , inwardly fuming at Dean’s not-so-subtle insinuation that he had a lover in every port . 

As he passed Billie, she spoke low and cool. “Is he the reason your heart is beating? Has he cast a spell upon you?”

Castiel saw Madame Tran and the others that made up the high table watching them with interest. He ignored her. He might pay for it later. He pasted on a tight smile and entered the chamber a few steps behind Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Miss Masters hat mich geschickt.” = “I was sent by Miss Masters.”   
> “Wir mussen uns beeilen. Die Sonne geht bald auf.” = “We must hurry. The sun will rise soon.”  
> “Werden Sie helfen. Bitte?" = “You will help? Yes?”  
> “Sie war unsere Freudin... und im Rat.” = “She was our friend... and on the Council,”


	15. Chapter 15

Dean’s mind was a swirl of confusion and mental exhaustion. He’d fulfilled the damn prophecy with the help of  Cas and Missouri, and now, instead of flying home to his family, he was in some sort of medieval fortress in the middle of fucking Siberia.  _ Sibera _ . Whose bright idea was that?

The doors shut heavily behind them and Dean took in the huge space. The floor was marble, inlaid with hundreds of ancient symbols. Above them, the ceiling was domed and painted similarly to the Sistine Chapel, except instead of Christian ideology, every supernatural creature known and unknown to Dean was depicted in vivid color.

A regal looking black woman strode toward them, dressed in the same uniform as the guards outside. Dean froze as she wrapped her arms around  Cas . “You come back victorious. The Madame is pleased. I will show my pleasure later.” Her laugh grated on Dean’s already shot nerves. Then the bitch kissed  Cas . Kissed him like she’d done it before. He wasn’t jealous. Far from it.  Cas wasn’t his, he’d made that pretty fucking clear that night in his bedroom. He caught a glimpse of her fangs. So, another bloodsucker. When she pulled back, she wore an expression of shock. “What is this? Your heart? I felt it beating.” 

_ What _ ? That was impossible. He’d been up close and personal with  Cas and... no, vampires didn’t have heartbeats. What the hell was going on? He opened his mouth to ask  Cas to explain, but he wasn’t paying attention to Dean. Motherfucker was probably thinking about ‘later’ with the girlfriend.

“Will I have time to show Dean his chambers before we meet with Madame Tran?”  Cas asked her, still facing away from Dean. 

“She is waiting.” Dean wanted to grin.  Cas ’ lover didn’t seem too happy. 

Unable to resist, Dean offered, “Hey, if you two want to bang one out, I can wait.”  Cas snarled out his name, but Dean ignored it.  “Guess  Cas here gets around, Sweetheart. Been waiting long?” He moved closer to her, safe in the knowledge that she couldn’t hurt him. Not here. Not now. “You aren’t the jealous type, are you? Cause, I  gotta tell you, his last lover...”

“That’s enough.”  Cas ’ outburst made Dean snap his mouth shut. He crossed his arms, daring  Cas to deny anything. Did the asshole have lovers all over the world. Dude said he traveled a great deal. He probably had plenty of people willing to share his bed. Dean had been a fool. Unwilling to let it go, Dean continued his taunting. “Ah, come on,  Cas . Surely, we have time for a reunion. She looks like she wants to eat you alive. I can just go grab a beer... or maybe some vodka since we’re in Russia.”

Cas ’ expression was murderous. Dean lifted his chin in defiance. 

“ Castiel , will you introduce me to this witch,” the guard said, her obvious displeasure showing in the chilly tone.

“Billie, this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Princess  Adeyemi , Captain of the Council Guard.” Dean glared at her. If  Cas thought he was going to shake her hand and say ‘glad to meet you’, the fucker had another thing coming. 

Her eyes held contempt, but she knew her place. She bowed. “I must welcome you to the Council Palace.” 

Dean could almost feel her hatred for him. He smirked. “Thanks, Darling. Guess we shouldn’t keep  _ Miss  _ Tran waiting. You and  Cas will have to get reacquainted later. He likes to bite, but I guess you do too.” He gave her his best  _ fuck you _ smile.

“This way.” She spun on her booted heel and headed for a set of heavy wooden doors. He took a step to follow her, but  Cas ’ hand latched onto his bicep. He refused to flinch, even if it did hurt.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Dean,”  Cas whispered. It sent a shiver down his spine. Yep, he may have taken it too far, but then again, no one ever accused Dean of being smart.

“Hey, far be it from me to stand in the way of tapping that,” he said, not lowering his voice. “Bet she gives as good as she gets. Don’t worry, I’ll find something else to do while you  _ catch up _ .”

“We will discuss this later.”  Cas had kept his tone low. Not letting up on his tight grip, he pulled Dean toward the doors, now open. Dean let  himself  be dragged a couple of steps, but then yanked free. He started whistling that golden oldie made famous by Ricky Nelson about having a lover in every port.  _ He wasn’t jealous _ . He just needed to get through this Council business, fly to  Cas ’ house, grab his car, and take his family home. He wasn’t planning on passing go or collecting two hundred dollars.

Dean’s next thoughts were cut off as he took in the Council chambers. There were hundreds of seats, all empty except for a long table in the center of the room. An Asian woman, clad in a red silk robe sat in the center. Four others sat with her, two on each side. He felt  Cas ’ hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward. 

The woman rose. “Ah, Dean Winchester.” She smiled. “We owe you a debt that can never be  repayed .” She gave a slight bow. “Come. Sit.” She pointed to two wooden chairs in front of them. Dean and  Cas both sat. “I am Madame Tran.” She turned to her left. “May I introduce my High Council. Julian Duval.” She gestured toward the man at the end of the table. Dean nodded to the handsome man. He looked to be in his early twenties. 

“Hakim  Nazari .” Again, Dean greeted the blue skinned male with a nod. Tattoos swirled over the creature’s face. Djinn. 

Madame Tran swept her arm to the right. “Daivik Mahto.” The creature inclined his head and Dean noted the eyes of a snake in the regal face. It should have freaked him out, but after the last few days, Dean was immune. “And this is Lily Markham.” Dean spied the jagged teeth as the Nachzehrer smiled at him. He had a general idea what everyone was except for Duval and Tran. 

Tran sat and from Dean’s seat, he saw the robe part. Eight black, hairy legs arranged themselves under the table. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair. What the hell was she?

“Again, let us congratulate you on defeating Baphomet. Released unto the world, he would have destroyed it.” Her voice softened. “I understand Missouri played a large part in his defeat and losing a friend...” She visibly collected herself. "We have delivered the news of her death to the Council members. She will be laid to rest tomorrow.” She paused, her fingers laced together on the table before her.

The Djinn spoke, his Middle Eastern accent strong. “Missouri chose you to take her place on the Council. That will be taken into consideration, but we...” He indicated his tablemates with a blue, slender hand. “make the final decision. I cannot speak for my fellow members, but your bravery speaks for itself.”

Dean straightened in his chair. “Yeah... uh... until a month ago, I didn’t even know this existed.” He waved his hands at the room. “So, I think I’m going to have to decline your nomination... or whatever.” All he wanted was to put all this shit behind him and settle back into being The Cowboy.

“What Dean is trying to say is that he hasn’t had time to process everything. The last twenty-four hours have been traumatic. He was kidnapped, thrust into a battle, and lost someone who was his mentor... his friend. If the High Council will give him some time, perhaps...” 

“We understand. No one is asking for a decision today, Castiel,” Madame Tran interrupted. “Dean, a room has been prepared for your stay. I have assigned a member of the Council to be your escort during your stay with us.” Dean saw Castiel out of the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Tran kept talking. “Castiel, while Mr. Winchester is resting, you will brief us on the events.” She clapped her hands and the heavy doors opened. 

The woman that entered was beautiful. Long,  dark hair hung around her shoulders. She wore a brown leather  thing and thigh high boots graced her feet , leaving her creamy, white thighs bare . As she moved closer, Dean’s eyes widened. She had to be close to seven feet tall. “Dean, this is Lydia. She will act as your guide. Lydia, please show Mr. Winchester to his room.” A looped rope hung from her side and Dean’s mind put her in a Game of Thrones porn movie.

Dean refused to look at  Castiel , but it felt unsettling to leave him. He took a deep breath and stood. He nodded to the High Council and followed Lydia out. Once the doors were closed behind them, she spoke. “You are the witch who defeated Baphomet and the demons. I am grateful.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Dean said. “Hey, uh... so what is Madame Tran? I mean...” Was it rude to ask questions like that? Damn, he wished he had Bobby around to ask.

She laughed softly. “Madame Tran is a  Joro-Gumo .” At Dean’s confused look, she explained. “The  Joro-Gumo originated in Japan, though Madame Tran is of Chinese decent. It roughly translates to spider-woman.”

Dean grinned. “So, Marvel, huh?” At her questioning expression, Dean shook his head. “Yeah, bad joke.” She gave him a tight smile and started walking. He hurried to catch up. He was led down a long hall and then up a winding staircase. “If you don’t mind my asking, what about you?”

She paused at the landing. “I am Amazon.” And just like that, she continued walking. 

“Great,” Dean muttered. “They stuck me with a man hater.” The hall looked like that of an old hotel, but none of the rooms had numbers on them. She stopped in front of one. 

“This will be your chambers during your stay here. Once you are on the Council, you will have a more permanent room. Your bags were already brought up and once you are settled, you can call for me.” She opened the door and snapped on a light switch. Dean peered around her. The room was small with stone walls, a double bed that looked like it was from the Spanish Inquisition, a nightstand, and a small dresser in the corner. 

“I will give this room one star on Yelp,” he said, spying his duffle on the bed. “Is there indoor plumbing?”

She stepped across the obviously old Persian carpet and opened a narrow door. “In here.” Dean wasn’t sure he was ready to see it, so he flopped on the bed. At least, it didn’t smell musty. She pointed to the dresser. The phone was a push button style from the eighties. “When you have rested, push the one. Ask for me and I will come get you. I’ve been asked to give you a brief tour and then take you to the dining room for dinner.”

“Guess room service is out of the question? You have any TVs in this place?”

“No.” So much for conversation. “I shall leave you alone now.” With that, she was gone. He sighed and took out his phone. No service.  _ What a surprise _ ... He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Hopefully, he’d be allowed to leave after Missouri’s funeral. The stress of the last twenty-four hours took its toll and he fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke some time later, he stretched and heard his stomach grumble its displeasure. When had he eaten last? He rolled off the bed and opened the door. The bathroom consisted of a small sink, a toilet, and a  clawfoot bathtub. No shower. “Dandy,” he said to his reflection in the small round mirror. “Fucking dandy.” 

He splashed cold water on his face and dried it with the scratchy towel from a pile on the back of the toilet. Dean huffed at his image before turning. He dialed one and a woman with a Russian accent picked up after a single ring. “Yeah, this is Dean Winchester in the penthouse suite. Can you send up Lydia and have her bring a bottle of your best whiskey.” He smiled at the silence from the other end.

“I will send Lydia to you,” she said stiffly and hung up.

“Doesn’t anyone have a sense of humor around here?”

It took her ten minutes to knock on his door, but Dean wasn’t surprised. From the outside the place looked  freakin ’ enormous. “What’s up?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You called for me.” Resigned to the fact that no one laughed in this whole ginormous castle-thing, he shrugged.

“Let’s eat.”

“I will take you to the dining room.” She turned on her heeled boots and Dean followed her down the hallway. He didn’t bother attempting to ask questions

“Whoa, Hogwarts.” He stared at the long tables, lit by candelabras. Gas lanterns lined the walls. Once his presence was noticed, all conversation stopped. “Uh, awkward.”

“They are curious about you. An untrained witch defeated a god of the underworld. The story has spread,” Lydia said, then led him to an empty table. He sat and craned his neck looking up at her.

“Are you going to eat?”

“No.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” He pointed to the bench on the other side of the table. “Sit down and keep me company at least.” She settled across from him and crossed her arms in front of her. “So, what’s for dinner? Is a waitress going to come around? Do I get a menu?”

He hadn’t even got the last word out of his mouth when a glass of water was set in front of him. Or Dean assumed it was water. Then a plate heaped with sliced beef, roasted potatoes, and tiny carrots swimming in butter was placed before him. “Uh, thanks,” he said, turning, only to find a... a garden gnome. The bearded creature nodded and scurried away. Dean looked down at his plate and then over at Lydia. “I hate to ask, but what the hell was that?”

“ Lutin .”

“And... could you elaborate?” Dean picked up the fork that must have been delivered with his food. It smelled amazing.

“ Lutin .” She repeated. “While one of their elders has a seat on the Council, a large part of their village serve us. They cook and clean.”

“A house elf, huh? I think I packed an extra pair of socks.”

“Are you touched in the head?” Lydia was eying him warily. 

Dean laughed softly and took a bite of the wonderful food. He moaned around his fork and then took a sip of the beverage.  _ Water. _ “So, Lydia, when you aren’t giving guided tours here, where do you live?”  Cas had a nice house in the States, so he assumed all the Council members lived elsewhere.

“Our village is in the Ural Mountains.” Dean waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. He had a lot of reading to do. Bobby’s dusty library was going to get a lot of use when he got home.

He was finishing his dinner when  Cas walked in. He looked tired. He was with Madame Tran and the djinn. A few feet behind them was what’s-her-name, the guard...  Cas ’ lover... one in a string of them apparently.  _ And  _ Ketch was jealous of him.  _ That was rich _ .

Dean pushed his plate away. “I’m done.” He stood up and  Cas stared at him from across the room. Dean didn’t acknowledge him. He might have been the one to come to Dean’s rescue and help defeat Baphomet, but Dean couldn’t forget the rejection.  _ Fool me once _ ... the old adage made too much sense.

“Would you like a tour now? We cannot leave the palace at night, but in the morning, I can show you the grounds.”

“Nah, I’m kind of beat.” The nap was nice, but he was exhausted. Besides, he didn’t want to risk running into  Cas again. As they walked through the main hall, Dean asked, “Do you know when Missouri’s funeral is?”

“The witch’s rite of death?” 

“Her name was Missouri. Missouri Moseley,” Dean felt the need to clarify. She wasn’t just some witch. She’d cared about him. She’d been his mother’s friend. She deserved respect.

“The rite is to begin tomorrow at two.”

They turned a corner and Dean saw a brightly lit room. “What’s in there?”

“The library.” She paused at the doorway and Dean looked inside. He whistled softly. If the dining room was Hogwarts, this was like the New York Public Library. 

“You need a library card to borrow a book?” 

She shook her head, her expression once again quizzical. “All Council members and guests may read here.”

“Can I take something back to my room? I promise I won’t steal.” She pursed her lips, then nodded. He stepped inside and tried to get his bearings. “Guess you wouldn’t know where they keep the best sellers, huh?”

“I do not,” she responded and strode purposefully toward a desk. An ancient man with a long, white beard sat behind it. “Wizard, the witch seeks ‘best sellers’.” She spoke as if she’d never heard the term before. 

The man stood, his black robes falling around his slight frame. “Our novels are over there,” he pointed a gnarled hand to one of the far corners. Dean thanked him and headed in that direction. He was surprised to see some of his favorite authors on the shelves. He ran his fingertip along the spine.  Cussler , Vonnegut, Child... no, he needed something light. He moved to the As and found what he was looking for.  _ A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy _ . He pulled it from the shelf and tucked it under his arm. 

Lydia left him at his room and he locked the door. He got ready for bed and settled against the headboard. He’d no sooner opened the book when there was a knock. He stared at the door. It was louder the second time. The third time, he heard  Cas say his name. There was no fourth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I could finish this up in two or three more chapters, but there are so many plot points to tidy up, besides, I'm having fun with this story.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had the time to write much because work has been so busy, but here it is, better late than never, huh? Hope you enjoy.

“What Dean is trying to say is that he hasn’t had time to process everything. The last twenty-four hours have been traumatic. He was kidnapped, thrust into a battle, and lost someone who was his mentor... his friend. If the High Council will give him some time, perhaps...” Castiel rushed to say, but was interrupted by Madame Tran. He didn’t want Dean to make a decision about the Council when he was tired and still reeling from the battle. Missouri had named Dean as her successor, but he still had to consent. Castiel knew, despite Dean’s childish display in the rotunda, he was a good man, a true and righteous witch and would serve the Council well.  

“We understand. No one is asking for a decision today, Castiel. Dean, a room has been prepared for your stay. I have assigned a member of the Council to be your escort during your stay with us.” Castiel opened his mouth to say that he would act as Dean’s guide, but a sharp glance from Duval, the werewolf at the end of the table made his mouth snap shut. Castiel had been silenced and to go against the High Council wasn’t done. He folded his hands in his lap. 

 “Castiel, while Mr. Winchester is resting, you will brief us on the events.” With a clap of her hands, the doors opened and an Amazon entered the room. He recognized her as a fellow Council member. Castiel felt his fangs lengthen in anger. It surprised him. While he hadn’t had time to analyze his situation, he’d thought Dean’s blood and Missouri’s magic had ‘cured’ him. He couldn’t waste time on that now. The faster he related the entire story of the battle to the High Council, the quicker he could get to Dean and try to explain things.  

Once the huge wooden doors thudded into place, he lifted his chin and his eyes met Tran’s. Her human-like mask relaxed and her true features were on display. He’d only seen her like this a few times. Her almond-shaped eyes rounded and four eyes stared back at him. Her mouth split and long, black fangs elongated from her, now hairy, face.  

The djinn rolled his neck and stretched out his legs. Castiel watched patiently as the five Council members made themselves comfortable. Finally, Mahto flicked out his forked tongue. “We are pleased at your loyalty to the Council, Castiel. Your diligence has paid off and the prophecy has become history.” He pressed a hidden button on the table and a much smaller door to their right opened. Castiel recognized the Navajo man, a skin-walker and appointed scribe to the Council. He carefully sat at a small table and picked up his quill. Without looking up, he held up his left palm and stabbed the end into his flesh. All Council scripture was written in blood. Castiel began.  

Two hours later, he had answered every question and the High Council was satisfied. Madame Tran rose and she skittered around the table on her eight legs, her silk robe flaring behind her. “We have kept you long enough, Castiel. You will join me for a returning warrior’s meal. He stood and followed her. At the door, she stopped and with a soft crackling sound, hid her true self behind the human face. “Will you be joining us?” She asked the panel and all but Nazari, the djinn, declined. The three exited the room where they were met by Billie. Her lip curled and Castiel knew the unanswered questions still angered her. He would deal with her later. 

As they swept into the dining room, Castiel at Madame Tran’s left, Nazari on her right, his eyes scanned the vast room. Dean sat with the Amazon. Castiel cocked his head to the side, wanting Dean to look up at him, but Dean’s gaze remained stubbornly on his plate. Damn the obstinate witch. 

They took their seats and Castiel watched as Dean left with his escort. “You have become close with our savior.” Since her question was said as a statement, Castiel just inclined his head. “Good, he will need a friend to help him adjust to his new life.” 

“His new life?” Castiel moved his crossed arms to allow the Lutin to place the goblet of blood in front of him. The coppery aroma made his heart beat faster, but for some reason the smells of roast beef made his mouth water. What was happening? He hadn’t enjoyed real food in centuries.  

“He is to take Missouri’s chair on the Council,” she said matter-of-factly. She picked up a large grasshopper from her plate and popped it in her mouth.  

“Isn’t that his decision?” Castiel took a sip of the warm blood. It was good, but the smell of cooked meat and vegetables whiffed through the air and he found himself wanting more than his usual sustenance.  

“Of course, but who would take his place in his stead?” Nazari answered. “There isn’t a known witch to compare. Missouri is dead.” 

Castiel nodded and took another drink. They ate quietly and then Madame Tran reached for the pitcher of water at the same time Castiel did. At the touch of his skin, her eyes flew to his. “Come, Castiel, walk me to my chambers.” If the djinn noted her odd behavior, he didn’t mention it as he bade them goodnight. 

She bowed to Nazari and laced her arm through Castiel’s. Billie fell in behind them and Tran addressed her. “We don’t need your company, Captain.”  Castiel could almost feel the ire radiating off the guard. He almost smiled. Tran’s next words stole any amusement he’d felt. “Your flesh is warm to the touch. A pulse beats under your skin. What has happened?” 

“I am not sure, Madame. As I told the High Council, Dean and I shared blood as requested by Missouri. Perhaps it is a side effect?”  

“Perhaps,” she said, her expression unreadable as they were passed by a few Council members. She guided him down one hall and then another. Once they were alone again, she looked up at him. “Tell me, Castiel, do you still feel the desire to feed?” 

He tilted his head in thought. Had he? Not since he’d drank from Dean. “It hasn’t been that long,” he said honestly. “It hasn’t been a constant with me in a long, long time.” 

She nodded. “And Missouri… did she touch you before she died?” 

“Yes, she held my hand. And Dean’s,” he added as an afterthought. 

“That stubborn witch,” Madame Tran exclaimed, walking faster. 

“What? What do you know?” Though her legs were shorter, she had eight of them and he had to hurry to keep up. 

“She hated the law. By binding two members of the Council, she could turn the tide. She knew the votes would swing toward allowing the species to blend blood, especially with Alistair gone.” 

“Binding? A spell? Did she cast a spell to bind Dean to me?” He couldn’t hide his shock and disappointment. “Will he be forced to stay with me?” 

She stopped at the door to her chambers and faced him. “No, my child. This was not a love spell. This rite could only work if the two are already connected.” She scrutinized him for a moment. “You have feelings for the elder Winchester.” 

“No.”  

“You lie,” she said, amusement in her voice.  

“I cannot allow my feelings to… to…” 

She waved his words away. “Bring me Missouri’s grimoire. I will see what she has done.” She placed her hand on his heart. “Missouri would do nothing to cause harm.”  

Missouri’s grimoire? Would it be in her valise? He knew it was with her body. He must find it. “I will bring it to you, Madame.”  

He turned to leave her and as he walked away, her words reached him. “And Castiel, get some rest.” 

Billie was waiting for him at his own chamber door. Their involvement was meant to release aggression, nothing more. He could not treat other lovers as he treated another vampire. He could expose the hidden animal within him to Billie. He could bite, slash, and be the savage monster he was and she would heal within seconds. “Captain,” he used her title to keep a barrier between them. “Was there something you needed?” 

Her eyes flashed in anger and her body was rigid, but she knew her natural aggression would not work on him. “You no longer desire me?”  

“Desire? That was never the case, Captain. You knew that.” 

“The witch might have a cock, but he cannot give in to your baser instincts.” 

“I would suggest you treat _the witch_ with respect, _Captain_.” 

“The Council will call for your execution.” Her voice turned back to the seductive purr he was used too. “I might enjoy putting you to death, Castiel.” 

His hand whipped out to clasp around her neck, his thumb holding her chin in place. His fangs dropped and he leaned forward. His breath was ghosting over the skin beneath her ear. “And I would enjoy watching you try, _pet_.” He pushed her back, noting her clinched fists by her side. He sighed heavily and met her eyes. “Billie, this was never meant to be,” he said softly, all anger draining from him. 

“I cared for you, Castiel. I could love you,” she whispered and he was relieved to see the resignation in her gaze. She touched her neck where his hand had held her. 

“No, Billie, love is _more_ . So much more. Do not settle. Love is… love is knowing you would die for someone. Love is knowing, without them, life isn’t worth living.” _He would die for Dean_. He inhaled sharply. It could not be. 

“Your beating heart has made you soft,” she said, but her words weren’t scornful. “I wish you well, Castiel.” She turned on her booted heel and strode quickly down the richly carpeted hall.  

Restless, Castiel moved swiftly down the hall to Dean's room. He listened and heard Dean's pulse. He was still awake. He knocked, but it went unanswered. Again. Then a third time, each louder than the last. Dean did not want to see him. How he hated his beating heart and all the emotions that went with it.

He woke to the sound of the chimes. He counted them. Ten. When they rang eleven times, Missouri’s funeral would commence. He stepped into the bathroom and was startled to see his reflection in the mirror. He touched the glass. His usual stubble was longer and flecked with bits of gray. The last time he’d seen himself in a looking glass was the morning before he was turned.  

Ten minutes later, he was racing down the hall to the stairs. Down. Down into the bowels of the earth. Missouri was on a stone slab, her valise beside her. “What have you done, my friend?”  

They’d cleaned the body and dressed her in rich robes. He touched her cold hand, saying another goodbye before opening her bag and locating the leather-bound book. By rights, it should be Dean’s. She’d named him her successor. He knew Madame Tran would make sure it got back to him. 

He was not surprised to see the crowded halls when he returned to the main floor. Missouri was well respected. The majority of the Council would be here to attend her final rites. He inclined his head to the guards by the High Council’s offices. “Madame Tran will see me,” he told them. One spoke into the communication device strapped to his wrist.  

“Member Castiel Novak to see Madame.” He nodded as a voice told him to let Castiel pass. He stepped into the elegant room. She was seated on a brocade sofa and rose when he came toward her. “Missouri’s grimoire.” After taking it, she dismissed him. 

At the Council doors, he stopped to wait. Dean would sit with him. It was expected. One by one, the members filed into the great room to pay their respects. Dean appeared with the Amazon. Castiel saw him hesitate when their eyes met. “Hello, Dean.” He looked good in the suit and tie. Where had he gotten that?  

“Cas.” The Amazon looked back and forth between them.  

“You may leave. Mr. Winchester will be seated with me.” She nodded and left them. “Shall we take our seats?” 

“Guess so,” Dean bit out. He was still angry. Castiel grabbed his bicep and dragged him behind the large doors.  

“Tell me why you cannot stand the sight of me.” 

“Wow, you really have no clue? I needed… No, you know what. We came, we saw, and we conquered. Our little partnership is over. We aren’t buddies, Cas. You don’t owe me anything, and I sure as fuck, don’t owe you anything,” 

“Is this about that night in my bedroom? Were you not satisfied?” It was a rhetorical question. Castiel had seen the evidence. 

“This isn’t about… just… fuck you, Cas.” Castiel stared into Dean’s eyes. Humans, even ones with power, often confused him. He had memories of emotions and pain, but it had been too long. Expressive, green eyes met his and refused to look away. He replayed the events of that night in his head, because he was sure Dean’s angry stemmed from it.  

“You know why I sent you away. I explained…” 

“Yeah, you explained and I’m good, Cas. I’m fucking fantastic. I’m going to finish up this shitshow and go home. With any luck, you won’t have to see me again.” 

“Damn you,” Castiel hissed. Desire and need pulsed through his veins and he slammed Dean against the wall. His lips crashed down, taking Dean’s mouth in a scorching, brutal kiss. Dean didn’t respond for the first few seconds and then he was giving as good as he got. Fingers dug into Castiel’s waist and he retaliated by yanking on Dean’s hair. God, it was so good to _feel_.  

“Stop,” Dean said, suddenly pushing away. He was shaking his head. “I’m not going to be another of your conquests, Cas. I’m not. I can’t.”  

“Dean, you’re not. This… this thing between us…” 

“Oh, _please_. Ketch? That bloodsucking guard? How many more? No, I don’t want to even… It doesn’t matter. I’m going home.” Ah, was Dean’s anger based on jealousy? He could explain. 

“Billie… I could let the monster in me out with her. I could hurt her and she wouldn’t hate me. Ketch was my lover, but he wanted more. Dean, whatever is between us… it is unlike anything I’ve felt before. You’ve gotten under my skin. I can’t explain. Even before Missouri’s final spell, I found myself needing you.” 

“Final spell?”  

Castiel raked his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t meant to mention it to Dean until he found out more. “Dean, please, we need to talk, but now isn’t the time.” The rotunda was quiet which meant that the rite was about to begin. He took Dean’s arm and steered him through the doors. 

They took seats near the front. Dean wasn’t happy about delaying their conversation, but he’d have to deal with it. 

The large room was quiet as everyone settled. Madame Tran stood and let her true self show. Beside him, Dean gasped softly. Castiel leaned to whisper, “When you are showing respect, it is custom to drop your disguises.” He heard an audible swallow as Dean nodded. 

 “We are here to say goodbye to a colleague and my dear friend, Missouri Mosely, High Witch. She died honorably.” She didn’t have to elaborate, every member of the Council knew of the prophecy and the events of the battle by now. Word traveled fast in their world. 

A set of doors swung open and a pair of black horses, led by one of the witches of Missouri’s coven, entered, pulling a small white carriage. Missouri’s body, now wrapped in dark cloth, lie atop it. Following them, came the rest of Missouri’s coven, dressed in red and black hooded robes. They came to a stop in the center of the room. Their new Priestess released her hold on the horses and set candles at each of the Cardinal points. She swept the area with a broom and laid it next to Missouri, then she pulled a sword from the scabbard at her side. Raising it above her head, her voice rang out. 

 _"This is a place which is not a place in a time,_    
_Which is not a time halfway,_    
_Between the worlds of the Gods and of mortals."_  

She swept the sword around the circle she’d cast and the remaining coven lifted their hands. The entire Council stood. Dean looked around and rose to his feet beside Castiel. 

Pointing to the west, she began the ceremony. 

 _"As the sun sets,_    
_So our friend has left us._    
_The water of our tears like the salt water of the sea,_    
_And like the water of our mothers' womb,_    
_Blesses this Circle."_    
   
She turned to the south. 

 _"As life is a day,_    
_So our friend has passed into the night._    
_The fire of our life, the memories and courage,_    
_The strength given to us by our friend,_    
_Blesses this Circle."_   

Again, she turned and continued.   
   
_"As all that falls shall rise again,_    
_So_ _Missouri will be reborn._    
_The air we breathe, this treasure of our life,_    
_The compassionate_ _caring_ _we give each other,_    
_Blesses this Circle."_    
   
When she faced north, her voice echoed in the huge chamber.  

 _"As the Earth forms us,_    
_So Missouri shall return to the earth._    
_Our Mother feeds us, and clothes us._    
_She gives us everything and in the end she takes our bodies back._    
_And earth blesses this Circle."_  

The coven aligned themselves around the circle, facing outward, heads bowed and the priestess’ voice rang out again. 

 _"You are the Goddess, as are all women._    
_You give birth. You feed the children from your own body._    
_And You take them back for a new birth._    
_World without end, eternal creation."_    
   
As one, the coven spoke. 

 _"And you are the God, as are all men._    
_You are born._    
_You live and You die, only to be born again._    
_All-Father, All-Destroyer, ruler of the land of the dead."_    
   
Together they chanted. _"Birth and death. Over and over and over."_  

She walked to Missouri and addressed her. "You are dead. None should ever die alone. I am here to help you with your death. There is only love, the greatest Mystery. I reach behind my fear. I open my heart and my eyes in the light of this love. Our lives are formed of many others and we form other lives in turn. And when we are here with you after you die we honor your life. There is only love. The love of the Goddess gives birth to the universe. The love of our parents gives birth to us. The love of our friends and family sustains our life. Kindness, love, and pleasure. We are formed from these and we form each other. When we die we leave them behind us. You have left your family. You have left sex, and even gender. You cannot be a woman or a man and enter the other world. You have left behind your body. None who have bodies can pass into the other world. The Goddess is taking you back now, the Great Mother. Her womb is the Earth that will receive your body. Your body is a seed now, a seed of other lives. In a sacred space we have gathered to honor you and to give you some things to take on the journey with you." 

The coven raised their heads and all spoke at once. “Help in Missouri’s journey into Summerland." 

Then the Council said together: "I will remember you at Samhain and bless." Dean was quiet beside him. He would learn the ways soon enough.  

The Priestess lowered the sword and everyone sat down.  

 _"Journey on now, sister._    
_We will follow when we can._    
_May you be born again at the same time and in the same place_    
_As those you knew and loved in this life._    
_May you know them again and love them again."_  

She laid the sword on Missouri’s body and carefully covered her face with the black cloth. “What’s happening?” Dean whispered as the member of the coven gathered in the circle.  

Castiel leaned closer to him. “She will close the circle and dismiss the Directions. Then they will take her body to the catacombs to be sealed in her crypt.”  

Dean’s eyes never left the ceremony below them. Castiel watched him for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the Priestess as she bent to each candle in turn, blew it out, and finished the rite. With little fanfare, the horses and carriage exited the room.  

Dean released a breath and faced him. The Council members were filing out now. The High Council would follow Missouri’s body to her crypt and draw the sigils on the seal. “When do we leave?” 

“The Council won’t reconvene until next month, so we can depart tonight.” He knew Madame Tran would want to see him about Missouri’s grimoire. She would probably summon him once she was finished  

“I’ll be ready.” He walked away and Castiel knew he’d push for answers soon. Too soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my Wiccan, Witch and Pagan friends, I hope it did Missouri's funeral justice.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missouri's spell is written out at the end of the chapter for those of you who can't make it out.

He’d got through the first chapter of the book, but the past two days with little to no sleep, combined with  _everything_  else, sent Dean into a dreamless slumber.  

The persistent knocking at his door woke him and he groaned, his head sinking back into the pillow. He called out, “Who is it?”  

“It is I, Lydia.” Her voice was surprisingly loud through the heavy wood. He swung his feet from the bed and grabbed the gray robe that had been hanging behind the bathroom door. After securely belting it, he let her in. “The rite for the Witch Moseley will begin soon. Do you wish to eat?” 

“I’d kill for some coffee,” Dean said. He was hit with a sudden wave of sadness. He hadn’t known Missouri long, but she’d drawn him in and treated him like a son. “I don’t have anything to wear.” Someone had been good enough to leave the basic toiletries in the bathroom for him, but he only had the clothes he’d been wearing when he was taken from Cas’ estate.  

The Amazon inclined her head to one side. “Madame Tran and Castiel took care of that.” She moved to the dresser in the far corner of the room and opened the door built into one half. Inside hung a suit, a white dress shirt, and a tie was draped around one of the hangers. He should have explored the room better, he thought as she opened a drawer to reveal a package of new boxers, socks and neatly folded jeans. Tucked behind the new underwear was a rich woolen sweater. With another sweep of her hand, she showed him a pair of dress shoes.  

“Guess they thought of everything, huh?” Dean moved forward to pick up the shoes. He peered inside and nodded at the correct size engraved into the leather inside. 

Lydia walked to the door and stood with her back to it. “Uh, could you give me about fifteen minutes to shower and dress?” She nodded and crossed her arms. Was she going to just stand there? Dean wasn’t overly modest, but he wasn’t comfortable enough with the Amazon to let her watch him take off his clothes. “Alone?” 

“You wish me to leave?”  

“Yep. Tell you what, you meet me down in the dining room. I think I can find it again.”  

Without a word, the door banged shut behind her. That went well. Had he pissed her off? With a shrug, he started getting ready. 

Thankfully, he had a good sense of direction and found the dining room. It wasn’t crowded and one of the goblins, the Lutin -- Dean corrected himself – was instantly at his side. 

“What will you be having, Witch?” Dean was about to take offense at the name-calling, but at the almost serene look on the Lutin’s face, he reined in his temper. After all, he was a witch.  

“Coffee, black. Bacon, eggs, over easy, and some toast. Maybe some hash browns, if you have them.”  

“As you wish.” He scuttled off on his short legs and Dean took his seat. Lydia found him a few seconds later and sat across from him without speaking. Idle chitchat wasn’t a common thing around this place. 

It seemed like less than a minute went by and Dean’s breakfast was placed before him. He inhaled the heady aroma and then dug in. The coffee was awesome and Dean figured they must use some sort of magic to make it perfect. It didn’t take him long to clean his plate. As he pushed it away, Lydia stood. “We must go.” 

Dean hurried after the Amazon. Damn, she had some long-ass legs. As they neared the center hall, chimes began to sound. Deep, echoing tones. Like church bells, only eerier. The mezzanine was crowded with creatures decked out in fine robes and even suits and dresses for the more human-like ones. His eyes roamed over them all, wide with wonder. Knowing they existed was one thing, seeing them all around him was quite another. He was staring at what appeared to be a troll when he spotted Cas by the huge wooden doors.  

“Cas,” he addressed him warily. Lydia’s eyes went from Dean to Cas and back again.  

“You may leave. Mr. Winchester will be seated with me.” The traitor left him alone with Cas. Dean wasn’t quite ready to think about his feelings for the vampire. “Shall we take our seats?” 

“Guess so.” Dean knew he sounded like a spoilt child, but he didn’t really care. He was about to wind his way around Cas to get inside, but a strong hand gripped his bicep. He was unceremoniously dragged behind the heavy doors where no one could see them. 

“Tell me why you cannot stand the sight of me.” Cas’ blue eyes flashed dangerously, but Dean knew in his heart that Cas would never hurt him. Not physically anyway. Emotionally? Yeah, the rejection still stung. 

“Wow, you really have no clue? I needed… No, you know what. We came, we saw, and we conquered. Our little partnership is over. We aren’t buddies, Cas. You don’t owe me anything, and I sure as fuck, don’t owe you anything.” The words came out in a rush. Dean’s whole body was tight with righteous indignation. 

“Is this about that night in my bedroom? Were you not satisfied?”  _Oh, hell, no_. He didn’t get to be cheeky about that shit. Dean saw red. 

“This isn’t about… just… fuck you, Cas.” He wouldn’t be the first to look away. He waited and then saw the moment Cas got it. 

“You know why I sent you away. I explained…” Okay, maybe he didn’t get it... or was it that vampires couldn’t feel things? 

“Yeah, you explained and I’m good, Cas. I’m fucking fantastic. I’m going to finish up this shitshow and go home. With any luck, you won’t have to see me again.” Just saying those words stung. Not ever seeing Cas again... it was what he needed, but fuck, if he wanted it that way. 

Cas pulled himself to his full height and even though he was an inch or so shorter than Dean, at that moment, he seemed to tower over him. “Damn you.”  

Dean found himself slammed against the cool stone wall and kissed as if Cas’ life depended on it. It was hard and filled with emotion that wasn’t necessarily desire. Dean let Cas take from him, unwilling to participate, but  _need_  won out. He dug his fingers into Cas’ sides, hard enough to bruise, as his tongue swept inside Cas’ hot mouth. Cas fisted his hair and he winced at the flash of pain, but fuck... his cock ached for it. Ached for Cas. _Cas_ . Cas, who had a long line of lovers.  _No_. 

“Stop.” Dean put both hands on Cas’ chest and pushed. He shook his head to settle his frayed nerves. “I’m not going to be another of your conquests, Cas. I’m not. I can’t.”  

“Dean, you’re not. This… this thing between us…” 

“Oh,  _please_. Ketch? That bloodsucking guard? How many more? No, I don’t want to even… It doesn’t matter. I’m going home.” Jealousy burned his guts and he didn’t care if Cas knew. He had to go home and leave this fucked up life behind him. He longed for the solitude of his booth at the radio station. Just him and the flashing ‘on air’ sign. It was good enough, but then Cas started talking again. 

“Billie… I could let the monster in me out with her. I could hurt her and she wouldn’t hate me. Ketch was my lover, but he wanted more. Dean, whatever is between us… it is unlike anything I’ve felt before. You’ve gotten under my skin. I can’t explain. Even before Missouri’s final spell, I found myself needing you.” 

Wait... what? “Final spell?”  

Cas looked like a deer in the headlights. “Dean, please, we need to talk, but now isn’t the time.” It suddenly dawned on Dean that the milling crowds were gone and a silence had settled around them. He allowed Cas to lead him to their seats, but his mind was reeling. A spell? What had Missouri done?  

Madame Tran stood at the front of the room and Dean gasped as she allowed herself to be seen in her true form. She was hideous. A black spider, right out of nightmares. Cas leaned over to whisper. “When you are showing respect, it is custom to drop your disguises.” Dean swallowed back his disgust and nodded in understanding. 

The funeral wasn’t long, but Dean found himself captivated by the ritual. Had his own parents been given this sendoff? He wouldn’t have known. After Cas had whisked them away to Bobby’s place, he’d been afraid to ask questions. As the years passed, he’d pushed his childhood memories further and further into a neatly packed box. The tape on that box was dry and torn now. He had questions.  

When the woman in the red and black robe covered Missouri’s face, Dean asked, “What’s happening?”   

“She will close the circle and dismiss the Directions. Then they will take her body to the catacombs to be sealed in her crypt.” Her crypt? Where his parents in a cold crypt here too? He’d always thought they were buried somewhere in Kansas.  

As the horse and carriage took Missouri’s body through the arched doorway, Dean turned to Cas. Everyone stood as the High Council followed them out. 

“When do we leave?” It was one of the most pressing of Dean’s questions. He had to get out of here. The stone walls, the cold, the hundreds of monsters... all of it.  

“The Council won’t reconvene until next month, so we can depart tonight,” Cas answered softly. 

“I’ll be ready,” Dean said and walked away. He was shocked that Cas didn’t try to follow him. He found himself in the middle of the rotunda and Lydia was instantly at his side. “I’m going back to my room and change out of this monkey suit.” 

If she found his choice of words strange, she didn’t let on. With one of her patented nods, she led the way.  

As he was changing into the jeans, the phone in his room rang. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Dean, Madame Tran wants to talk with us before we leave.” 

“She’s not going to try to talk me into sitting on the Council, is she? Because, honestly, dude, I can’t right now.” 

“No, you don’t have to make a decision until the next time the Council convenes. This... this is about Missouri’s final spell.” 

“Oh...” Dean closed his eyes. He thought back to her final words.  _Destiny_. “Can you give me a heads up?” 

“I don’t know what was written in her grimoire, Dean. Madame Tran will tell us together.”  _Together_? Dean was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Had her spell done something to both of them? Cas’ heart was beating now. Was he still a vampire? “Will you meet me in the mezzanine?” 

“Yeah, give me a few minutes to get there.” He hung up and took a few deep breaths. Would Tran have some of the answers? 

From the hall, Dean could see Cas waiting. The vampire was still wearing the suit he’d worn to the funeral. It fit him well. Strangely enough, the captain of the guard wasn’t anywhere around. He hadn’t seen her since that last time in the dining room. Other guards stood at the entrance, but she was absent. “Where is your friend, the captain?” 

“Billie? She has other duties,” Cas said dismissively. As Dean fell into step beside Cas, he turned and added. “She did not share my bed.” 

“Hey, none of my business, man,” Dean countered, but his heart felt a bit lighter as Cas led him down a narrow corridor. This area of the palace was darker, the air heavier.  

“We will be seen in Madame Tran’s private chambers. Prepare yourself.” Cas stopped at a door. It was wooden like all the rest in the place, but this one had carvings on it. Deep gouges in the shape of...  _a web_. Dean swallowed the spit building in his mouth. He touched Cas’ arm.  

“Has she ever... does she...”  

A smile touched Cas’ lips. “She has not killed in centuries. She is a fair ruler.” 

“So... what? She eats flies?” Curiosity was eating at him. So many questions. 

“Among other things. The Lutin make sure she has plenty of insects and occasionally, she will feast small rodents.” 

“Gross.” Cas tilted his head, arched a brow, and knocked. “Here goes nothing,” Dean mumbled as the door opened. 

“Please come in,” Tran said, stepping aside. Dean tried not to react to the bizarre room. The walls were covered in flossy strands. A large bed was on one wall, a canopy, but ropes of web hung around it like a shroud.  

The only part of the room not covered in webs was a small sitting area by the window. “Sit. We have much to discuss.” Cas and Dean took their places on a small settee, while she arranged her robes over a heavy brocade chair. She picked up a leather-bound book off the table beside her and opened it near the back. “Missouri was a friend and thus, I was allowed to open her grimoire. Her final entry...” She stopped and looked up at both of them. “It was as I suspected when I found Cas to have a heartbeat.” She passed Cas the book and he turned it so Dean could read with him. The parchment was thick and yellowed with age.  

 

Dean finished and looked up at her. “So, she cast a love spell? Binding me to  _him_ ,” he snapped, pointing at Cas. Was that why he was feeling those things? 

“A love spell? No, child.” She smiled. “Read the words again.”  

Dean did as he was told while noting that Cas was staring blankly at the page. “What you feel for each other is not caused by magic, not Missouri’s magic anyway. You were destined to meet and fall in love. It was written in the prophecy.” 

“No. I read the prophecy. There was no mention...” She held up her hand and stopped Cas’ rant. 

“You were shown what you needed to see. The High Council decided to keep the part about your union secret. We... and Missouri... felt that if you’d known, perhaps you wouldn’t have allowed Dean to go into battle. You would have taken the burden on yourself. That wasn’t allowed to happen. Yet, you fought beside him and would have died with him.” She inclined her head as if asking a question. 

“I would have,” Cas said softly.  

Her dark eyes turned again to Dean. “Child, this was not a spell to force love upon you. This was Missouri’s gift to you both. Castiel has his heart, and you, Dean, you have what your mother wished for you.” 

“And what’s that?”  

Her smile was warm. “A power that can do good in this world. Her legacy. Her faith in humanity.” Dean let his eyes go back to the page.  _A daughter._ He would have a child. No, _they_ would have a daughter. 

Madame Tran took the book and gently closed it, pressing her palm to the cover. “This is yours now. Fill it with the good you do.” Dean felt the weight of it in his hands.  

“I have questions,” he said, resting the book on his lap. 

“Of course, you do. Ask them.” 

“My parents... are they buried here?” 

“Yes. Castiel arranged for them to be brought here and given their final rites.” Dean closed his eyes. “Castiel will take you to them, if you wish.” 

“Thank you,” Dean whispered. He wished Sam could be with him for this. 

“Now, go home to your family. Take time to decide on your future. I look forward to seeing you next month.” 

“I haven’t made up...” 

“Child, you will make the right decision for you and your... Castiel. After all, Missouri picked you.” She nodded her regal head and stood. The two men left her chambers and silently walked down the halls until they reached a narrow staircase going down. 

“Mick will have the plane waiting when you are ready,” Cas said softly. He hadn’t talked much and Dean wished he could read minds. The stairs led to a passage. The lighting was dim, but Dean’s eyes quickly adjusted. “They are here,” Cas said as he stopped by to stone doors. Etched in the stone was Campbell, then beside it, the name Winchester. Before, the engraving was too old to read. Dean touched it and warmth spread through his fingertips. He gasped and yanked his hand back. “It is the sigils. They hold your parents’ power.” Dean reached out again. He could almost hear a humming in his blood. He could remember his mother’s blonde hair and kind face as she read them stories about magic and heroes on horseback. And John, tall and imposing, bearded with a ready smile. “They would be so proud of you, Dean.” 

He blinked back the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. “Goodbye,” he said to himself and let his hand fall to his side. 

“We have much to talk about,” Cas said and took Dean’s hand. They climbed the stairs and Cas led him out the door. The late afternoon sun made the snow sparkle. Guards stood at intervals in front of the palace, paying them no mind. “Are you ready to leave?” 

“Yes.” Cas took out his phone and typed out a text. He moved to one of the guards and spoke quietly. Soon, a black SUV pulled to a stop beside them. Dean got in and sat back. Cas joined him a few seconds later. “I’m not going to hold you to that destiny shit.” 

Cas pursed his lips and stared straight ahead. The vehicle began to move and Dean turned away from Cas’ profile. The driver was none other than the captain. Her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror. He didn’t see the same hatred as before. They held curiosity, nothing more. 

“Love shouldn’t be given lightly. Love is a gift... a precious commodity.” 

“If he would die for you, he is giving you his heart,” the captain said softly. “It is indeed, a gift.” 

Dean looked out at the desolate countryside. If he turned around, he knew the palace would have disappeared. “You...” He couldn’t finish. The words scared the fuck out of him. 

“Yes. I do,” Cas whispered. “And I always will.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said and turned back to the window. The rest of the ride was quiet.  

At the airport, Dean got out and was met by the captain. She stepped close. “Castiel has a strong heart. A beating heart. Do not crush it, or you will answer to me.” Dean licked his lips nervously. She meant it. She raised her chin as Cas approached. “Castiel, I shall see you next month.” She placed her hand on his chest and her smile didn’t meet her eyes. “Protect this.” 

Cas nodded once and she removed her hand. They stood on the windy tarmac as the SUV drove away. Mick appeared behind them. “I have filed the flight plan. Are you ready?” 

“Let’s go home,” Cas said, leading the way to the plane.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missouri's words:  
> I must save Castiel from himself. Love will prevail. It is his destiny.  
> Blood must intermingle as the rainfalls and the full moon shines upon us.  
> My own blood must be let and as my soul leaves this world, the spell will be done.  
> Dirt from the sacred place will mix with my life force as it drains from my body and it will bind them together. Unforced. Soul to soul. Heart to heart.  
> Love is already known to them, but they fight against it. Castiel most of all. He must give his heart freely, unchained by the pain of loss.  
> His heart will beat again and he will truly live, but remain shadowed. My magic cannot break his curse completely, but will allow his body to age with time. When Dean’s soul is ready for the afterlife, Castiel’s will die also. Together they live. Together they die.  
> I wish for them a long life. Destiny will prevail. True love will prevail.  
> I shall pass on, but my work will go on. Dean must take his rightful place on the Council in my stead. He shall cast the vote to end the barbaric law of non-association. Love will prevail.  
> He shall take an underling into his care and make her his own blood. A daughter. She will learn and grow. Her fathers will keep her well and safe. It is destiny. Love will prevail.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Collage at end of chapter is NSFW.

Castiel’s mind was filled with Missouri’s words. He’d memorized them and played them over and over like a well-loved song. He would be able to age and die. For most, that wasn’t a positive thing, but for him, after being alive for so very long, it was the ultimate gift. 

Inside the cabin of the plane, Dean paced. Mick was waiting for the tower to give him permission to take off and Castiel was trying to look busy with his laptop. He did have several emails to attend to, but with Missouri’s final spell echoing in his head, he could not concentrate. Dean’s tension wasn’t helping matters. He finally snapped. “Will you please sit down?” 

“Is there anything to drink on this flying death trap.”

Castiel nodded toward the teak bar set into bulkhead. He watched as Dean opened the cabinet. The bottles were set into special niches designed to keep them in place during even the roughest of flights. Dean lifted each bottle until he found what he was looking for, Jameson Black Barrel. Mick only stocked the best. He rummaged around until he found the drawer containing glasses. He shot down the two fingers he poured and Castiel gave him a disapproving look. “What? I know it’s not cheap bar shit, but I’m... I’m...”

“Scared? Stressed? All of the above?”

“Something like that.”

“Alrighty, mates, time to buckle up. I’ve been cleared for takeoff,” Mick said, his voice slightly distorted over the intercom.

Dean hurriedly poured another drink and sat down across from Castiel. Both men buckled into their seats and Castiel shut his laptop. “Have you called Meg?”

“Mick has kept her abreast of the situation.”

“But you haven’t called her? Not to check on Bobby’s condition? Or Sam and Eileen?”

“I have not. If something demanded my attention, she would have been able to reach me at the Council.” Dean seemed to be spoiling for a fight. Castiel wasn’t going to give it to him. “Would you care to discuss Missouri’s spell?”

He watched the emotions play over Dean’s face. “So, you want to be with me?” Before Castiel could answer, Dean continued, “Not because of some sense of obligation to Missouri, but...” He seemed to be searching for words.

“Dean, that night in my bedroom... you have no idea how much I wanted you. You drive me crazy and sometimes I want to throttle you, but it is you that I desire. Why do you think I sent Ketch away? It was because I didn’t want his touch. I longed for yours.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” The rumbling of the wheels on the tarmac told them the plane was taking off. Dean closed his eyes, hands gripping the armrests. 

“You weren’t in the mindset to listen, Dean.” 

“Yeah, probably not,” Dean responded, his eyes still closed. 

The landing gear clunked as the wheels settled into the undercarriage of the plane. Castiel waited until they got to cruising altitude to speak again. “She saw something in both of us,” he mused. “Something neither of us wanted to see.”

Dean opened his eyes and met his gaze. “So, this heart thing. You feel any different? I mean, obviously, you have it beating in your chest and you’ve got warm blood pumping in your veins, but how does this whole vampire human hybrid thing work?”

Hybrid? Was that what he was now? “I don’t feel the need to fed as often, and human food has a certain appeal now. My senses and strength haven’t been lessened. I’ve noticed gray hair...” He ran his hand over his face. “I must admit, the bathing, shaving, and bodily functions are something I never missed.”

“Welcome to the human race, Cas,” Dean said, a soft smile playing over his lips.

“You care for me?” It was a question Castiel needed an answer to. “A vampire?”

“You aren’t a fucking monster, Cas. Jeez, you care about people. Meg, Mick... your staff. You made sure Bobby was taken care of. You would have died for me.”

“Yes. Without a thought.”  Castiel  unbuckled his seatbelt and stood. He wondered how his body would react to alcohol. Over the many years of his life, he’d had wine on social occasions, but he stayed away from most beverages. He walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of Beluga Vodka, dropped in a couple of ice cubes, and  took a sip. He  hissed at the burn. He felt the heat of Dean’s stare at his back. “I haven’t allowed myself to love someone in many years, Dean.”

“If we are going to try this thing out, I don’t want you... I mean, I know you use blood banks, but I... I don’t share.” Castiel turned back to face him, an amused expression on his face. Dean looked away, but not before Castiel saw the hopefulness there.

“You were jealous of Ketch and Billie.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Dean’s face turned a curious shade of pink. 

“If we are going to try this  _ thing _  out,”  Castiel  said, mimicking Dean’s own words, “I will be true to you.”

“Yeah?” Dean shrugged. “So, we’re doing this, huh?”

“This has not been the most romantic of courtships,” Castiel wondered aloud. “I feel as if we are discussing the purchase of a car or other big tag item.” Much to his surprise, Dean burst into laughter. His head thrown back, the sound deep and manly, yet strangely childlike. Castiel was spellbound, utterly bewitched. His newly beating heart felt like it was pounding loud enough for Mick to hear in the cockpit.

When Dean finally pulled himself together, he nodded. “Yeah, well, no one can say we do things the easy way.”

The seriousness of their situation came to him and he sobered quickly. “Under current Council law, we must remain discreet. Madame Tran knows of the spell, but no one else, not even other High Council members have read it. Until a vote is called to abolish the legalities, we must be careful, Dean.”

“You think I need to take Missouri’s spot, don’t you?” Dean asked, just as serious, all laughter gone from his eyes.

“I cannot tell you what to do, Dean. I would never do that, but...”

“But you will give strong suggestions?” Dean stood and came toward him, but at the last moment veered to the side to pour another drink.  Castiel  saw it for the rhetorical question it was and didn’t bother answering. Dean took a healthy swig of the  expensive  whiskey, his gaze on the small window on the starboard side of the plane. The sun had set and the sky was deep purple. With the waning moon, an eerie glow touched the wings. Another sip and Dean exhaled. “I don’t know what to do. Hell, Cas, my mother didn’t want to do it. She had Dad sit in her place.”

“Only because she hated the spotlight. Mary... Mary lived for her magic. She helped those in need. Barren women who wanted children. The sick. The poor. Even a lonely vampire who needed a friend. John always consulted her on Council business,” Castiel said softly, smiling at the fond memories. “He would not cast a vote until he discussed it with her. She might not have sat on the Council, but it was her input that steered your father’s choices.”

“And Missouri? Look what it got her. Thrown into this mess with me... dying... and for what?”

“ _ For what _ ? Dean, she willingly gave her life for you to beat Baphomet. She knew the risks.”

“Maybe I don’t want to take those risks, Cas. Maybe I want to grow old, raise that kid Missouri talked about, and... and... spend my life with you.”

Castiel took the glass from Dean’s hand and clasped both with his. He willed Dean to meet his eyes. “You will grow old with me, Dean. I will do everything in my power to guarantee that and the Council will be there too. You will never be alone.”

“I’ll think about it, that’s all I can do right now. I have Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to think of too.”

“As do I. Your family has become my family.” Dean looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Castiel. “You are mine, Dean.”

“Promise?”

“With every beat of my heart.”

“Sap.”

“I prefer the term romantic.” Dean rolled his eyes and the seriousness of the conversation lightened. 

“Guess I’ll need to find a job in Seattle since you probably wouldn’t want to give up that fancy-assed house.”

“I am fond of my home, but if you want to go back to South Dakota, it can be arranged.”

“I don’t know... that garage of yours is pretty damn swanky. I think my baby feels right at home there.”

Castiel lifted Dean’s right hand and kissed his knuckles. “I would move heaven and earth for you, if I could.”

“I know,” Dean said shyly, his gaze drifting down to Castiel’s mouth. “Me too.”

“We have several more hours of flight time, I suggest we use it wisely.” 

Unlike their first time, Castiel wanted nothing more than to take Dean apart slowly, like a beautifully wrapped gift. He would show him how much he cared, because he did care, more than words could ever say. The witch made him crazy, but somehow, he’d wormed his way into Castiel’s once cold heart. His mind came back to the present and he found Dean staring at him, a slight smile touching his beautiful mouth. “You okay?”

“Yes, Dean. Mo re than okay.” He stepped forward and reached for Dean’s hand. He placed it on his chest and closed his eyes. Focusing on the steady beat of his heart, he whispered. “This belongs to you now.” He hoped Dean realized how important this was for him. 

Instead of responding to  Castiel’s  words, Dean kissed him gently and began unbuttoning his shirt.  Castiel , used to being the aggressor in sexual situations, reined in his desire and let Dean take the lead. With all the buttons undone, Dean pushed the garment off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His nipples hardened in the cool cabin air. Dean’s thumbnail flicked one and  Castiel  hissed at the sensation. Blood pounded in his veins, making him feel light-headed. 

Heavy-lidded green eyes stared into his before Dean took a step back and began removing his own shirt. His pulse was accelerated and  Castiel  could almost taste it. He longed to taste it. Dean licked his lips and reached for the snap of his pants. The zipper could be heard over the thrumming of the jet’s engines.  Castiel  swallowed, suddenly finding his mouth dry. 

He watched as Dean toed off his boots and fuck, if the man made removing his fucking socks sexy. The tantalizing shimmy his hips did as he dropped his pants made  Castiel’s  dick throb. Dean’s cock was outlined in his tight boxer briefs, and  Castiel’s  eyes were riveted to the damp spot by its flared head. 

Dean’s hand moved to his cock, palming its thick length. Up and down, hypnotically.  Castiel  could not look away. “Dean,” he whispered like a benediction, because damned if the man wasn’t a god. 

He dropped to his knees to worship him, his hands pushing Dean’s out of his way, mouth open and wet on the cotton covering the final prize. He inhaled the scent of arousal, both Dean’s and his own. With a growl, he yanked the offending cloth down and moaned at the sight. His cock was engorged with blood, throbbing, angry and red. He flattened his palms over jutted hips, over smooth skin. He opened wide and took him inside, the velvet smoothness resting heavily on his tongue. Dean groaned from above him and fingers dug into his scalp. “Yes, God, yes,” Dean murmured.

Almost lazily, he let his tongue swirl over the head, tasting the salty bitterness that was Dean’s essence. Up and down, his head moved on Dean’s thick shaft. His hands roamed, pausing to cup his balls and tug before pressing up into his perineum, seeking and finding the area that would give Dean pleasure. The gasp brought a smile to  Castiel’s  lips as he continued to apply more and more suction... continued to push Dean to the brink. The man’s thighs were trembling and  Castiel  brought both palms up to hold onto Dean’s ass, keeping him steady. “Cas... don’t want to come yet... stop...” 

Castiel  looked up, taking in his lover’s flushed face and lust-filled eyes. Beautiful. And  _ his _  until the end of their days. No other would ever come close. He dug his fingers into the meat of Dean’s ass and squeezed, at the same time nipping his teeth below the flared head. He swallowed the first burst of cum and let the rest splash on his lips and chin, groaning as he rubbed his face into the skin of Dean’s stomach, marking him. 

He let Dean sink to the floor, the lush carpet welcoming him. Dean’s eyes were closed and his breathing was harsh and erratic.  Castiel  cupped the man’s balls and gave another gentle squeeze, a stray drop of semen appeared at the slit and  Castiel  bent to lick it, causing Dean to whimper and tug his hair. 

Standing,  Castiel  stripped off his remaining clothing and stroked his cock. Precum dripped from the tip. The smell of sex hung heavy in the air. His fangs lengthened with his need. The urge to feed was pounding in his brain, but it wasn’t the same. No, this feeling was different. His own blood was calling to him from inside Dean’s veins. 

Slowly, Dean opened his eyes and looked up at him. His pupils dilated and he held up a hand. Castiel  took it and tugged him to his feet, then pressed him down to the bed. 

His smile was blatantly sexual.  He parted his legs wantonly, bending them at the knee and digging his heels into the deep pile of the carpet. Could he feel the  lure of  their combined blood?

In the drawer next to the bed, he found what he needed. He knelt between Dean’s thighs. “Dean, are you sure?”

“Yes,” he whispered, flattening one of his hands over his chest and letting it move lower... and lower still, moving under his balls to his tightly furled hole. The primitive need drove  Castiel  down with a primal snarl. He cupped Dean’s hips and lifted them off the  mattress , driving his tongue deep  inside . Dean bucked, his back arching. “Fuck... fuck...” In and out, he stabbed into Dean’s body, fucking him, the sound wet and obscene. Between his legs, his cock throbbed and his arousal dripped onto the  sheets . Dean moaned and writhed, begging for more.

He lowered Dean to the  bed  and picked up the discarded bottle of lubricant. Dean watched him through lowered lashes as he slicked up his fingers. Relaxed as he was by his orgasm and  Castiel’s  tongue, it was easy to slip inside Dean’s tight channel. Quickly one became two. He worked in and out, Dean’s body welcoming the intrusion, his hips rocking back and forth. 

With the third finger, Dean’s cock began to thicken once more. When  Castiel  found his prostate, he grunted, “There... fuck, yeah.” He took a moment to stroke and press against the sensitive area, loving the sound that Dean made. “Cas... fuck, man... just... come on.”

Taking that as permission,  Castiel  eased his fingers from  Dean’s  hole and paused to watch it gape open, clenching as if seeking something to fill it.  Castiel  rose on his knees and slicked up his cock. Once again, he lifted Dean by his hips and brought him forward until the head of  Castiel’s  cock nudged against his entrance. His eyes left that sight to meet Dean’s gaze. He gave him a quick nod and  Castiel  pushed in. Steady and slow, inch by inch. 

Dean was panting loudly, eyes not wavering from the  vampire’s . He pulled out and thrust back in, Dean grunted, his fingertips digging into  Castiel’s  thighs.  Again  and again, fucking him harder and harder, faster and faster. His gaze drifted down to Dean’s cock, hard now, and slapping against his belly. Would he be able to make Dean come again? 

He slowed and let Dean’s hips rest on his thighs. He reached for Dean’s hands and pulled him forward, so he was sitting in  Castiel’s  lap. Using his strength, he could easily thrust up into Dean, hitting his prostate each and every time. Dean let his head lull back, baring his throat to  Castiel . The smell of his blood was intoxicating. He bent his head to inhale the sweat and the scent of their sex. “Do it, Cas. Make me yours.”

In Dean’s eyes, he saw acceptance, desire, and something so much deeper. He licked at the pulse point, moaned at the taste and with a cry, he let his fangs puncture the skin. Dean gasped and shook as his orgasm took him over the edge. His hot cum painted  Castiel’s  stomach as he drank, his own release pumping inside of Dean. He retracted his fangs and moved his lips over the pooling blood. He’d been careful to only take a few sips. The holes closed instantly and he sighed, his forehead pressed to Dean’s. They held onto each other, skin cooling, pulses slowing, and breathing becoming normal. “Cas, that was... I’ve never...”

“I know,” whispered  Castiel . He lifted Dean off of him, both hissing when his cock pulled out. Lying Dean on the mattress beside him, he wrapped him in his arms. “Sleep.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends... please understand that while Cas and Dean live a long life, others in their family can not. This chapter, the epilogue, has a sad part, but a happy ending for our boys. No MCD for Cas and Dean.

“A guy doesn’t turn a thousand and twenty-nine years every day, Charlie,” Dean said as the tiny fairy flitted around his head. “I had to do something awesome.”

It had been four months since they got back from the ‘prophecy shit’, as Dean called it. In that four months, Sam and Eileen had taken Bobby back to South Dakota. They stayed in touch and were planning on coming in for Cas’ birthday. The birthday he  _ didn’t _  celebrate, but Dean was making a big deal of. 

“ Castiel  isn’t fond of surprises,” she lamented near his ear. “And these boxes you have made... I do not think my friends will like them.”

“They’re hives, Charlie. Hives. And bees will love them. It will keep them safe and warm and dry. Dry, Charlie. Just think about it. Seattle. Rain. Those two things go hand in hand. I’d bet money that your friends would love to have a dry place to kick their little legs up and rest.” The fairy narrowed her eyes, obviously trying to come up with another argument about Cas and his birthday gift.

Finally, she crossed her tiny arms and nodded. “All I can do is ask them.”

“Thank you. ” Dean grinned and stepped back to stare at the hives he built with a critical eye. They were perfect. All he needed were bees. “And look, Charlie, Cas has a  fuckton  of flowers around the house. Your little buddies will be happy here.”

She nodded and flew off. His shoulders slumped. If she couldn’t get the bees to come, the surprise would be ruined. He’d racked his brains to come up with something to get his lover, because let’s face it, the man had everything. Dean planned to order some of the honey-making machines, but he’d waited too long and no one wanted to ship them in the uncommon heat wave they were experiencing. 

Two days later, after waking up with some mind-blowing sex, Dean escaped to jog down to the tree line behind one of the outbuildings to check on his gift. He heard the soft buzzing sound from a few yards away. It stopped him in his tracks. Bees flitted and zoomed around the hives and he grinned. Charlie had come through for him. 

All he had to do now was send Mick to the airport to pick up all the guests. Meg was playing her part by requesting Cas take her to a doctor’s appointment. 

Once he saw the tail end of the SUV disappear, he ran to the kitchen. “You ready?” Miss Hess smiled and opened the pantry door with all the enthusiasm of Vanna White revealing the winning letter. “You are amazing,” Dean told her with a grin. It had taken a few months of him cooking what he wanted, when he wanted, but finally the housekeeper let him have his way. They formed a tentative truce, but with the birthday plans, they’d gotten to be ‘almost’ friends.

Together, they unloaded the pantry and decorated the huge formal dining room. The cake was amazing and Dean wasn’t the least bit ashamed to have used his magic on it. 

Mick ushered everyone into the house and Dean greeted everyone, before pushing them all into the dining room and shutting the door. He’d gotten the text from Meg that they were almost here. Thankfully, nobody’s plane was late. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, Dean took a deep breath and met the man he loved at the front door.

“ Heya , guys. How did the appointment go?”

“A complete waste of time,” Cas said grumpily. “I don’t know why we even went. You have the herbal remedies to keep her healthy and pain free. That... that  _ human _  wanted to give her narcotics.” Behind him Meg was rolling her eyes. 

“Good, that’s great, so... uh, I have something to show you...” Dean waved at Meg and she wheeled herself around them and headed for the dining room.

“Dean, can it wait? I...”

“Nope.” Cas blinked at him. “Just come with me.” 

“Please tell me you have forgotten all about this birthday nonsense.” He crossed his arms and Dean shook his head.

“Birthdays are important, Cas,” Dean said solemnly. “But you told me not to make a big deal about it and so...” Dean wasn’t going to lie, but hedging was allowed. He took Cas’ hand in his. “I just want to show you something.”

“Fine, but it must be quick. Madame Tran said she would be calling this afternoon and I need to get some things ready...” He stopped talking when Dean opened the door to the dining room. “Madame Tran?” Dean grinned at Cas’ wide-eyed expression. 

Charlie zoomed up to his face and shouted, “Surprise.” The whole room laughed and followed suit, yelling out happy birthdays. 

Cas turned to Dean. “How did you do all this?” His gaze  w a nder ed over all their friends and family. 

“I had a lot of help,” Dean answered. Then whispered, “I know you hate surprises, but Cas, come on, you’re fucking old and we have to celebrate.” He brushed a fingertip to Cas’ temple where gray hair was making a sexy home for itself.

After eating cake and making sure their guests were settled, Dean took Cas’ hand and led him around the garage and past the outbuildings. “H appy Birthday, Cas.” Cas’ eyes lit up when he saw the gaily painted hives. 

**_ 2023 _ **

“Cas, where are you?” Dean stood in the middle of the creepy old bookstore, turning in circles. New Orleans was a magical city, but Dean’s senses didn’t like the chills he was getting in the small shop. The hair on his arms was standing up. “Cas, damn it?”

“I’m here, Dean,” his husband of ten months came out from behind a shelf crammed with dusty, leather-bound books. “What has you so rattled?”

“I don’t know, man. I just want to get out of here.” He glanced around as if expecting the rogue vampire Cas had chased down and vanquished was going to pop up behind him. There wasn’t anything but a pile of ashes in the bookstore’s basement and logically, Dean knew it, but still...

“I was hoping to find a first edition of The Maltese Falcon, but sadly...” He stopped abruptly when they both heard a sound to their left. 

“Was that a baby?” Dean narrowed his eyes and raised his flashlight. No one was in the store. It was well past midnight, and the store had been closed for hours. Cas, not needing the aid of artificial light, moved toward the sound. “Cas,” he hissed. Damn the man. He was still a vampire, but he wasn’t immortal. 

“Dean...” Cas’ voice sounded weird and Dean hurried to his side. He was hunched over something on the floor. The beam of Dean’s flashlight illuminated the small infant carrier. Cas’ eyes met his own. “Read the note.”

Dean bent down and picked up the card from where it rested by the baby’s kicking feet. He studied the kid. Wispy blonde curled atop its head and large eyes looked up at him in return. He or she was dressed in a dirty sleeper. “Hey, there,” Dean whispered, taking a knee to get a closer look. “Who would have left it here?”

“Read the note, Dean,” Cas repeated. Dean pointed the beam at the note. The writing was old-fashioned and faded.

**_ It shall come to  pass,  a witch and a vampire will unite all the creatures of the world and they shall live as one. Rewarded with a daughter, the two shall live as one and raise her up to greatness. _ **

“Cas, does this mean what I think it means?”

Instead of answering, Cas knelt beside Dean and carefully unbuckled the straps holding the child in the carrier. “We should name her Claire. It means bright and clear.” He lifted the baby and held her to his chest. 

Dean thought he couldn’t love his husband more, but at that moment in time, with the tiny infant in his arms, Dean fell again, head over heels. He held the note and read it again.  _ Unite all the creatures of the world _ ... Once Dean took his rightful seat on the Council, his first vote was to abolish the archaic law forbidding different creatures from mating. His own marriage to Cas was legal and Madame Tran had even pronounced them husbands in the eyes of the High Council. “She’s ours? But where did she come from? Where is her mother?”

“I do not know, Dean.” Cas only had eyes for the baby. Dean was usually the more emotional of the two, but  right  then, he’d swear Cas was already wrapped around those tiny fingers.

As the weeks went by, Claire grew and her vivid blue eyes seemed to take in everything around her. Cas spoiled her and Dean knew he’d eventually have to be the disciplinarian. Cas would let the kid get away with murder. 

Sam and Eileen came for Christmas bringing their son, Jack. The toddler was rambunctious, but wicked smart. As the gifts were being given out, Jack suddenly laughed and pointed at Claire. All the adults turned to where she was sitting on a colorful blanket with her new toys. Dean gasped and rushed forward to grab the puppy. The live puppy. The cute stuffed plushie was now a living, breathing dog. Claire giggled and reached out. “Doggie.”

“Cas?” Dean spun around, still holding the wiggling puppy. “What the hell?”

Jack walked over to his smaller cousin and sat beside her. “Go...go...go,” he cried out, clapping his hands and the firetruck he’d gotten from Cas and Dean came to life, lights flashed and the siren blasted, as the toy sped through Dean’s legs and bumped into Claire’s outstretched legs. Speechless, the adults stared at the two children. 

**_ 2053 _ **

“Dean, it’s time.” Cas stood at the doorway of the bedroom. Dean straightened his tie again and nodded. He took his husband’s hand and together they walked through Sam’s home and out the front door. Mick, gray hair neatly combed, stood by the electrically powered limo. Once they were seated across from Claire and Jack, Mick got behind the wheel and started the motor. Claire clutched a tissue in her hand and Dean thought he should have packed a handkerchief. It was too late now.

The cemetery wasn’t far and the four, followed closely by Mick, walked to the freshly piled mound of dirt. Dean stopped at Bobby’s headstone. He touched it lightly. The old man had lived a few years after the attack, but his body finally gave up. Eileen’s headstone was harder to look at. Taken before her time by cancer, she’d died before Jack’s tenth birthday. Stubborn until the end, she refused to tell Dean. He would have moved heaven and earth to heal her. Jack, stoic and handsome in his suit, paused beside him. “I miss her.”

“Me too, son,” Dean whispered.   He missed all of his lost family. Meg had finally succumbed to her illness not long after Eileen and it took a lot out of Cas. His husband had sunk into a depression that last for several months. Dean pulled him out of it, but it had been hard on their marriage. Luckily, their bond could withstand anything.

The imposing casket was beside the grave. A spray of roses graced the top. Sam would have been seventy on his next birthday. After Eileen’s death, he and Jack had moved to Seattle to be with his brother. The heart attack that killed him almost destroyed Dean. Sam was the healthy one. Even in his sixties, the man jogged every single day. 

He and Cas ran together most days. Dean smirked at his brother’s final resting place. All the healthy eating and exercise didn’t mean shit. He’d always told Sam being vegan was going to kill him. There was no preacher and no final words. Dean had said his goodbyes over Sam’s body the day he died. He watched as the casket was lowered into the ground, one hand clutching his husband’s and the other holding onto Jack’s cold one. A man now, Jack stood tall, his face blank. He wasn’t fooling Dean. He’d heard the quiet sobs through the closed bedroom door every night since Sam... 

Claire stepped forward and placed a single rose on her uncle’s coffin. She sniffed and brushed the tears away from her eyes. He wanted to comfort her, but he had nothing to give. Cas put his arm around her  and  let her head fall to his chest. 

“Dad?” Claire pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned to her. Her face was blotchy from crying, but she was still perfect in his eyes and he was so proud of her. 

“I’m fine, Princess.” He wasn’t though. Sam had always been there. What was he going to do without him? Cas squeezed his hand and the three moved away, leaving him by himself. He dropped to his knees. The workers, ready to fill in the grave, turned around to give him privacy. “Tell mom and dad hello for me, will you?” The breeze rustled through the leaves and he could almost hear Sam’s voice telling him that he would. He reached for the small jar in his pocket and sprinkled the sea salt, juniper berries and other herbs over the casket. “See you later, Sammy.”

When he stood up, he looked over at Cas, standing with his back to him. His once dark hair was fully gray now, as was his own. At seventy-three, he still looked like he was in his mid-forties and Cas didn’t look much older. The warm June sun glinted off Claire’s blonde hair. She’d turned into a beautiful woman and her power promised to stronger than Dean’s. Jack’s magic waxed and waned with his moods, but he was stronger than Sam ever was. His nephew had his arm around Claire. He smiled and wondered when those two would figure it out. Cousins in  name  only, the two had become close over the last few years. 

**_ 2058 _ **

He woke slowly, enjoying the feeling of Cas’ arms around him. Almost forty years and it never grew old. He stretched and then placed a soft kiss at the perfect spot of skin under Cas’ left ear. He mumbled something, but didn’t wake. Carefully, he shimmied out and stood. He’d let Cas sleep in, after all, he’d tired the man out last night. He smiled to himself as he pulled on his robe.

It was quiet downstairs. Jack and Claire were in Japan investigating the death of a witch. He’d turned over his seat at the Council to his daughter last year to focus on saving the planet. Climate change, pesticides, poaching, and pollution had taken their toll on earth and he was using his powers to reverse some of the damage with the help of the fairy realm and other magical creatures. 

In the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee and settled against the counter to watch Miss Hess mix pancake batter. “You remembered.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I remembered.” The ‘you idiot’ remained unsaid. He cringed a bit when she added the colored sprinkles to the batter. Who knew birthday pancakes were a thing? “Will Master Jack and Mistress Claire be back in time?”

“No. They plan on video calling tonight though,” Dean answered. He pushed himself away from the counter and made another cup of coffee. “Breakfast in twenty?”

“Yes,” she said without looking up. 

He took the cups back to their bedroom and sat down beside Cas. Only his gray hair showed above the blankets. “Babe? Time to get up?”

“No.” Dean chuckled softly. His vampire was not a morning person. 

“Come on, sugar dumpling, you fed last night. You should be all perky this morning.” One blue eye glared at him. “We both need to be there for Sammy.” He knew that would do it. Cas  doted  on their grandson. 

“Did Miss Hess remember...”

“Yep, birthday pancakes are on the griddle as we speak.”

“Please tell me I don’t have to eat them.”

“We can’t disappoint him, babe.”

Cas groaned but flipped back the blankets and took his cup of coffee. He kissed Dean softly before taking his first sip. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Last night... a couple times... once when I did that thing with my tongue...”

“Stop.” Cas gave him a bump with his shoulder, almost spilling Dean’s coffee. 

“Why, you like it when I...”

The door, that Dean hadn’t shut all the way, burst open to reveal a little boy, brown curls tousled from sleep. “Grandda,  P apa, is it my birfday yet?”

“Gee, I don’t know...” Dean started, and then laughed when Sammy ran to the bed and climbed up. Damn, the kid was cute in his Batman pajamas. He snuggled up between the two men. Dean kissed his head. “Happy Birthday, Sammy.”

His gaze fell to Cas’. Blue eyes melded with his. They shared a smile and each took a small hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story. It was different than anything I've done before and I really enjoyed flexing my wings.


End file.
